Dust and Bone
by eotopia
Summary: **ONE CASE, TWO COVERS, ZERO CHANCE.** Summary: "Defensive wounds Olivia," he rasps through the darkness. "Make em deep." Theme: Undercover, EO, Dark. Mature audiences. Warning: Mild violence and sexual themes. Timeline: Set pre Tucker. Post Lewis.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: "Defensive wounds Olivia," he rasps through the darkness. "Make em deep."

 _Theme: Undercover, EO, Dark. Mature audiences._

 _Warning: Mild violence and sexual themes._

 _Timeline: Set pre Tucker. Post Lewis._

#####

She feels the steel barrel of the gun digging into her shoulder blades as she's lead down the darkened alley way.

Her radio has long since been disconnected. She can no longer hear the station in her ear. She can no longer hear Nick yelling at her to _'fall back' to 'call it in' to 'abort mission'_.

She has been taken to a second location.

A four hour car ride south.

She doesn't need to be told the odds of being found are now minuscule.

Nick was never meant to leave her side. But she doesn't play the blame game because she knows she's just as accountable. Stray hands were grabbing her, groping her in the nightclub – all things she would usually detach from, all things that come with the territory, all things she'd _brush off_ for the sake of her cover. All things her body now can't help but flinch, recoil, swing back and king hit in response.

 _She fucked up._

And now as she is being lead towards an unscheduled fate, her heels echoing the thrum of her heartbeat and the thought can't help but flit through her mind.

That years ago, many moons – long before the painful departures, the revolving door of new faces, her own personal torture and her long painful recovery, she knows she _never_ would have found herself here.

Because years ago, there was only Elliot.

#####

She is pushed roughly through the steel door.

"This one," the assailant behind her yells out, still pointing his weapon at the back of her head. "We found her wired in a Manhattan," he seethes. "Detailing Michaels."

Her eyes scan the room, it looks like an office connected to a warehouse full of abandoned shipping containers.

"Nice one Tony," a voice to her right speaks and she can't quite make out his face through the darkness. He sounds late 40s, early 50s. "A pig or a fed?" the dark figure asks.

"NYPD," Tony confirms, tossing her badge towards the enquirer.

He takes a moment to scan her badge before he steps out of the darkness, his eyes dragging over her body, assessing her, chuckling to himself.

"Wow," he muses humorously, "Take her to Chaseling, he's gonna wanna see this."

#####

She is led through the warehouse, down multiple flights of stairs, until they finally come to a closed wooden door.

Her eyes trace the tarnished letters, paint chipping off the edges.

 _William Chaseling._

She assumes this must have been a corporate office back in the day, where the floors beneath her feet would have been softly carpeted, not stained, greasy cement.

Tony knocks firmly on the door, waiting only a few moments before he calls out.

"Will?"

She takes the moment to make a note of all potential exit points.

No answer, so he moves forward turning the handle and moving her through the threshold.

"Will?" he repeats. "I've got something you're gonna wanna see," Tony prefaces, a smile in his voice.

As she rounds the corner she stops dead in her tracks when she spots him, standing beside piles of discarded paperwork, sporting a faded black tee shirt and stained, tarnished jeans.

 _Elliot Stabler._

Their eyes connect for one, long drawn out instant where neither of them can pull away. The look of sheer disbelief that lines his features is mirroring hers and her heartbeat thuds in a wildly frenzy of confusion, relief and fear.

"Found her detailing Michael's at Frayer's in the city," Tony informs him. "I know you like cops, so consider this an early birthday present." He shoves her forward and she stumbles slightly, stopping a few paces from him.

His eyes are still fixated on her gaze unable to tear them away and she watches his Adams apple bob nervously at her presence.

She can stare all she likes she realises with Tony behind her but the grace period for Elliot seems to have come to an end. He steps towards her, his eyes dragging down her body unapologetically, a sly look if approval now lining his face.

"Nice," he hisses and she moves backwards with each step he takes, suddenly taken aback by the shift in his demeanour. He continues to step towards her until she has no choice but to stop just short of the wall.

A hand juts out, moving it in line with her head.

His face bows down, caging her against the wall, intimidating her.

"Jersey or NYPD?" he asks, his eyes dropping to her cleavage and she shivers, confusion spiralling at just how naturally he seems to be morphing into this role.

"NYPD," Tony tells him, tossing her badge towards Elliot and he catches it against his chest, flipping it open scanning the details.

"Huh," Elliot muses, before throwing it to the side clicking his jaw. "Lieutenant," he says with a smile, his face turning towards the man to their left. "You shouldn't have Tony."

Tony chuckles scratching his cheek.

"Check this one before you do her okay," he warns. "She's a feisty piece - gave us a lot of grief in the car. Boss wants us to be thorough, then we dump her tomorrow okay."

Olivia's legs nearly give out at the words.

She hears Elliot suck in a heavy breath before he moves his eye line slowly back towards Tony.

"Thanks for the heads up," he forces a smile, "but I've got this."

She feels it then, the mood shift in the room, the power dynamics interchanging, the panic setting in now as if it's radiating straight from Elliot's chest and slamming into hers.

"Chase.." Tony warns. "You know the rules ok, check her in front of me - then she's yours."

Elliot clears his throat. Nodding to himself more than anyone else before his eyes trail back towards Olivia, she sees no light then, just a vacant abyss in his irises before he clears his throat.

"Turn around," he tells her, his voice is low.

She takes a breath before she starts to slowly move, her legs practically jelly beneath her.

But her movements aren't fast enough it seems because he is grabbing her by the hips and pushing her up against the wall before she has a chance. Her mouth opens as her hands slap against brick just in time to steady herself. Her heart rate jolts into overdrive because his hold on her is hard and unforgiving. It's should just be for show but she can't escape the feeling that his anger with her is real. When his hands start to roam her fingernails dig into the rough seams of cement between bricks and she swallows as the sides of his hands move up the perimeter of her torso, feeling, digging – searching. His touch is unfamiliar, unsettling almost, and she yearns for just the slightest sense of familiarity that the man behind her is the partner she once knew.

As his hands skim the sides of her breasts her heart starts to thud in apprehension and she feels her fingers start to waver against brick. He doesn't need to be this firm she thinks – or this thorough, he's either plenty paranoid of being outed or he's been under for far too long.

He moves in closer then and goosebumps wrack across her body when she feels his breath against the back of her neck. Her teeth bore down in her lower lip as he slides his hands over her stomach, moving lower until his hands are sliding down her thighs, moving around the backs of her legs until the planes of his palms run over her ass before squeezing firmly.

"Mhmmm, quite an ass on this one," he groans into her hair.

Her eyes widen and she juts an elbow backwards in reflex instantly, unable to stifle her reaction to the infraction he just caused but he's too quick, grasping her forearm and pushing her palm back against brick. She feels his whole body then, pressing up against her, the firm wall of his chest, his crotch against her ass and his breath jagged against her ear. She waits him out as she succumbs to his strength, feeling as if he is going to speak, whisper a warning in her ear, give her some sort of reassurance that it's ok - anything.

 _Nothing._

"What did I tell you - _feisty this one_ ," Tony interjects. "We don't take any chances, check her bra," he warns.

Olivia's eyes draw to a close. He's already groped her ass so he'd have no qualms heading to the command. Elliot's hands move to her breasts without a moments thought and he's sliding over them, squeezing them, exhaling heavily into her locks and Olivia bucks against his touch, torn between the reflex to protect herself and the futile hope that Elliot's brash actions are just a cover. He moves a hand upward until it's slipping down the front of her dress, down the dip in her cleavage. She swallows as his bare fingers slide between her breasts and over the lace of her bra, causing her eyes to clamp closed.

 _Jesus Christ._

She can't hear the silent words. She can't hear him communicating like she'd expect him to. _Go with it Liv, just trust me._ She hears none of that, infact if she hadn't known it was him, she'd assume he was the lowlife rapist he was pretending to be.

"Between her legs," Tony says and she can tell he is getting off on this. That's when her knees practically give out on her. She can't do this. She can't. Not after Lewis. Not when the presence behind her retains no essence of her former partner. But if she were waiting for a timeout, that was the moment, because it's as if he knows then, that her limits had just reached an overwhelming standpoint and he is backing off. He slips his hand out of bra and she shivers as he lets up just marginally some of the pressure he has on her body.

"She's clean," he rasps towards Tony and she breathes through the silence, praying that this is the end of this torture.

"Between her legs," Tony insists. "Or I'll do it."

She hears a slight exhale behind her before Elliot is moving his hand under her dress from behind. When she feels his hand on the back of her bare upper thigh she clamps her legs together immediately but it's Elliot's knee she feels wedge itself between hers, driving them apart, moving her forward until her forehead knocks against brick. Her heart is thumping into overdrive now but it's that slight, minuscule sense of hesitation she'd felt from Elliot earlier that she's clinging onto. He'd registered her limits, that was unmistakeable, so she wades it out, trusts that she can rely on that if anything right now.

As his palm slides up her bare inner thigh she holds her breath as his fingers still just before they reach her panties. She feels the perspiration from the struggle, the nerves and it's just his breath against the nape of her neck that she focuses on as all movement ceases.

A few beats pass before she feels it, the hand on the wall covering hers, pressing hers against brick, slowly shifting until his thumb slides softly across hers, just once, but enough to indicate that yes, her partner is here.

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

_Story Warning: Mild violence and sexual themes._

:::::

Olivia's heels echo through the large open expanse of the warehouse. Elliot is walking beside her; his weapon clasped in his right hand, her bicep in his left. He is moving her faster than her heels allow and she finds herself taking quick half-steps in an attempt to keep up with his pace.

The irony doesn't escape her that their legs no longer move in unison.

Her captors have long since dispersed and she no longer senses there is a soul in sight. She should be relieved that she now seems far away from their assailants but as cool night air whips through her chest, her body can't help but fill with unsettling trepidation. She feels the pressure around her bicep start to tighten as Elliot begins to lead her towards a row of trailers that span the side of the warehouse. She swallows, willing her heart rate to settle just long enough for her to come to terms with what is happening. As they reach the first trailer Elliot let's go of her bicep and moves her forward, her hands coming out and grasping the side of the doorframe for stability. She feels him crowd her from behind, opening the door handle and moving it open.

"Go," he rasps to the back of her head, still prodding her from behind and her stomach turns at how unnerving it seems to be in his presence.

The trailer is dim and dusty and the first thing she spots is an undressed mattress on the floor. She stops abruptly at the sight and feels Elliot's chest ram into her back from in the motion.

Images of Harris, Sealview, Lewis, the beach house slam into her unexpectedly and her palms are instantly clammy. She tries to backtrack, to step backwards, away from the mattress but he is there, his body a stonewall barrier, his free hand moving to her upper arm, blocking her from retreating. She loses her breath, starts to choke on the stagnant air from the trailer, congestion now lining the walls of her lungs as a large lump begins to form in back of her throat. She makes a sound of protest, her heart and mind racing as her past slams forcibly into her present. When she feels his hands, cold, firm and unrelenting dig into her upper arm urging her to move forward, something suddenly flicks inside.

"We alone?" she whispers through the darkness.

"Yes."

"Good." She swings around then, her fingers curling into a full fist before her knuckles connect forcibly with his jaw. Pain rips through her hand at the contact, a numbness taking over as she watches him hit the wall behind them. His gun drops to the floor as a sound wrenches from his throat, his hand comes up trying desperately to stifle the blow.

She shakes the numbness out of her palm and she is sprinting to the door now, but he is too quick, his arms encircling her waist, swinging her back from the exit. She twists in his hold, her legs completely leaving the ground, her mind screaming at her to fight him like a perp and slam her stilettos into him, but her body is struggling to follow suit. When her heels find the floor once more she jabs her elbow firmly behind her, nicking his side but it's not enough to release the hold he has on her. She changes course, wedging a foot between his legs, her heel connecting firmly with the back of his knee.

His whole leg gives out then and he is falling suddenly forward. She becomes collateral damage, the mistaken angle causing his hard body to fall into hers as they thud firmly down onto the mattress. Her breath leaves her body as his weight slams into her. She doesn't wait to see if he will correct their position, she just knees upward to the first body part she can hit, a groan leaves his throat as she makes contact with his stomach. She crawls out from underneath him then, her heels slipping off in the process as she drags herself backwards on her elbows, trying to get enough space to roll over and run.

Just as she gets high enough on the mattress he regains his strength, launching up just in time seize her ankle. He yanks her back down the bed, her dress scaling high up her thighs from the motion, her breath catching as he seizes her wrists and moves quickly on top of her. He wedges a leg between hers and he pins her wrists shoulder height before he drops his entire weight into her body.

"Get off me-" she calls out but her breath catches and all the air in her lungs expel completely from the motion. She tries to knee him once again but there is too much weight on her now. He lets out a ragged breath, anger radiating out of his fingertips before he moves his lower half, knocking her legs roughly apart and wedging his wide hips between them so she can no longer kick him. Her throat closes up when she feels the denim of his jeans pressing intimately against her bare inner thighs.

"You son of a bitch," she chokes out when she realises she's completely trapped. She arches her chest against him, tugging feverishly at her wrists but he isn't having it seems, his hands forming an iron clamp around her wrists as his face moves up to line up with hers.

"What - the _fuck_?" he rasps down at her in a strained breath. Her eyes clamp closed as she feels him shifting upward, onto his elbows, still holding her wrists with force but now raised above her, his jagged breath falling down onto her face. "Goddamn it Olivia, you think you're safer out there?" he breathes out in a heavy yell. "Go ahead, try it for a _second_ see how you do!" he finishes off in a yell, his chest still filling with air trying to catch his breath.

 _Olivia._ It's same voice, same octave, same tone, but it's not the same. _At all._

"Get off me," she seethes beneath.

"I don't know what you're doing here," he tells her firmly, drawing in a deep breath. "But you need to get one thing straight. You do as I _say_ , you got that? No questions." He breathes out through his nose, the volume of his voice rising by the second. "You don't resist me, you don't throw punches, you don't make a goddamn scene or my cover is blown and they will _kill_ _us_ , do you understand me? I've seen it far too many times to count and there is nothing they like more than torturing cops."

Her throat is practically crushed beneath the pressure of his body. She heard most of what he said. The words, the threats the demands, the sensibility, the fact that he is most likely trying to shock her right now by forcing her so intimately down like this. She understands the risks. She understands the situation, but right now all she is focusing on is the memories that are currently surfacing and the power he is continuing to strip away from her by the second.

"Get.." she rasps slowly. "..off me."

He blinks down at her. It seems as if something registers then. He should know, too much distance exists between them now to make this ok, too much unknown, too much grey area. She isn't the man she remembers and she isn't the woman he left behind. He left his rights with her at the door the moment he walked away. She watches him swallow at that realisation then, his Adams apple bobbing under his assessment of the situation, but she can tell he isn't quite done with her yet.

"No," he tells her and the quiet refusals slams into her, anger swirling in her chest at his audacity.

Her lips part and her eyes narrow at him, still straining against the grip on her wrists to no avail. "There is no one here Elliot," she says, her voice hoarse beneath his pressure," so get.. _off_ me."

Her blinks down at her, that blank, vacant stare that makes her heart want to cry out for another time, another life.

"You don't make the demands Olivia," he whispers slowly, his tone morphing suddenly into something march darker."You got that?" His voice now a thick line of caution that suddenly begins to replicate the haunting words from her recent past. _'You don't get to say no.'_ She chokes on the memory, slamming her eyes shut as she feels the tears start to prick and well beneath his angry words. "Understand something Olivia," he whispers firmly, "the past means _nothing_ here okay. _Nothing._ You have _no_ idea what you've just walked into."

Her eyes slip open then and the moisture is now budding at the corners, threatening to overspill.

"And you've got no idea what you left behind."

The emotion in her words rush out of her before she can stop them. She feels it then, an unspoken, empty sadness that is suddenly filling her chest, his throat, her mind - the room with uncertainty. Moments pass between them as they both mirror the blankness in each others eyes, questions circulating, concern emanating, confusion heightening. Then she feels a shift between them and suddenly the pressure around her wrists is easing up.

He starts to move off her body and the moment his chest leaves hers she draws in a long overdue breath of oxygen that he had deprived her of. As he moves onto his knees first and then his feet she just watches him silently as she lays motionless on the mattress. When he takes a small step backwards she moves her hands downward then, to the hem of her dress sliding it rightfully back down her exposed thighs. He pretends not to notice, he pretends what just happened was ok and most frustratingly of all, he extends his hand down to her as if to help her up.

Her mind reels as she begins to pick herself up off the mattress without his aid and as she stands, the remainder of her dress slips back down her body. She feels smaller in front of him now without her shoes so instead she allows her words, her tone and the few steps she removes between them to take up the space her height suddenly lacks.

"Touch me like that again Elliot," she warns, her voice a deep, low thrum. "And so help you God."

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

_"Touch me like that again Elliot and so help you God."_

He registers her threat, her warning - the anger that she's just spouted at him but he isn't responding. He is just staring back at her. There is a small strip of light peaking through the window behind him but it's enough to bring his dark blue irises into focus when he says it.

"I'm gonna have to touch you Olivia," he tells her firmly.

The statement slams into her chest. Her eyes narrow, her muscles ache beneath her stance. His tone hadn't sounded particularly threatening, just matter-of-fact as if she should know this by now. As her eyes scan his she lets out a quiet breath. He's not going to hurt her. That's all she keeps telling herself, that 3 years potentially undercover doesn't eradicate 12 years by her side. But she can't escape the thought that 2 days in a beach house irreversibly changed 46 of hers.

"Listen," he begins, starting to step towards her and she instantly takes a step back. He stops mid-sentence a look of uncertainty crossing his features as if he is only just realising how divided they are. Her eyes fall, she can see the additional lines on his face and a patch of nicks and scars around his neck. His body and stature are both bigger than she remembers and his voice is more horse. There is vague familiarity of another time when her eyes scan his features, but for the most part he feels like a stranger.

"Olivia," he tries again, using her name this time as if to force some sort of mock connection between them and the concept makes her chest hurt. "They think I've brought you in here to.." he starts and suddenly he is clearing his throat and he is looking away from her. Her eyebrows raise at that point, she wants to scoff. _Rape me, Elliot. 'Two words',_ she wants to scream. Two words they've used thousands of times, throughout hundreds of cases and he can't even say them to her face.

"Rape me," she spits back because he doesn't have the balls. "Yeah I got that," she whispers, a thick slice of sarcasm infiltrating her words now as she steps forward. "Because you like cops," she reminds him, the judgement from that sentiment slamming into him. She waits for him to explain it. To acknowledge it. To give her some sort of explanation as to why it was out there in the first place. "That's why I'm here right?" She presses, a mock smile lining her features. "That's why I'm _lucky_ enough to have your hands on me instead of theirs?" she spouts with force.

"Don't," he rasps in response.

She sees the warning in his eyes, she knows she is pushing the limits but she can't back down now, she's too infuriated, too hurt, too livid to let this go until she gets some answers.

"How many Elliot?" she yells, her eyes narrowing, stepping closer still, using her words and her leverage now to push him even further. "How many women? How many nights? How many cops?" She breathes out a heavy breath before she says it. "Or am I your first?"

He doesn't respond, just narrows his eyes as his fingers flex beneath her words.

"Do you kill 'em too Elliot?" she continues the taunt and she can feel herself slipping instantly back into detective mode like she's cornering a perp in interrogation. Her body is so close to his now she can feel his breath on her face and her thigh bump his knuckles. "Dump their bodies when you're done? Or do your right-hand men out there do that part for you?" she says with a mock half laugh. "I've noticed you've got a lot of pull around here, you must have been under for a long time. Enough for your cover to really _take,_ as if it were second nature," she whispers. "I mean the way you grabbed my ass.. my breasts," she reminds him, her voice low with mock seduction. "I mean, that _acting_ deserved an academy award."

He grabs her then, tugging her forearm towards him and she twists in his hold, her hand coming up and stopping her body from slamming forcibly into his chest. She lets out a breath as he holds her wrists firmly, giving her nowhere to go but up against his body. She lets him think his strength is an advantage when she knows her words have just cut far deeper. "You don't want my hands on you Olivia," he rasps against down into the crown of her head as he holds her through the struggle, "then don't give me a reason." He hisses, before he pushes her suddenly backwards.

She stumbles a few paces, her breath out of sync, disbelief in her eyes when they settle on his.

"You haven't answered the question," she says in a low tone, her head shaking in response.

He ignores her. Her stare. Her words. The question. Her entire presence it seems and instead he is moving past her, heading straight towards the gun that had dropped in their struggle. He scoops it up and makes his way back to her. He grabs her then, by the forearm, no graces and starts to tug her further into the trailer. Her eye-line drops to the weapon now clasped in his hand and she doesn't resist this time, her heart rate kicking up a notch now, unsure if he's collected it as a warning, or a just precautionary measure.

As they reach the kitchen he moves her roughly up against the bench.

"Listen to me," he tells her quietly, their jagged voices intermingled as he holds her firmly against the bench. "I am _not_ a rapist," he whispers against her face. "You got that? I choose cops so there is a _chance_ in hell I can free them, just like I'm trying to do now. I don't have time to give you a play-by-play on this. So you've got two choices. You make this easy on yourself or you try your luck out there," he spits back.

Her heart is pounding in her chest now as small pieces of the picture are finally coming together. She is still focused on the gun, clasped in his right hand. It hasn't made it's way up to her yet. It's just lowered parallel to their thighs and she is taking comfort in that for now. She hears his reasoning, his words, and the logic that is seeping through. It all makes sense in her mind but it doesn't alleviate the empty feeling inside her chest.

"Look," he whispers, a little calmer. "We've already lost too much time." He tells her in a weighted breath. "So you wanna know what happens next?" he whispers through the darkness, digging the gun into the back of his jeans before moving down towards her thighs. "I'm gonna to rip your dress," he tells her, his hand grasping the lip of her of material and her breath catches, her heart-rate soaring in response. "Mark your neck," he tells her heatedly, his accent thick as his fingers curl under the lip of material. "And you're gonna scratch the hell outta me," he pauses, " _deep_ , defensive marks," he whispers against her face.

"Okay Liv?"

Her mouth runs dry, her heart-beat slamming against her rib cage, a plethora of imagery pulverising her mind, her chest, her body - her heart. _Ok Liv?_ And suddenly she is back there. Across from his desk. Beside him in the car. Coffee, carrots, orange juice and kidneys. She still wants to resist this, she wants to fight it - she still can't reconcile the changes within him, like this new chapter is just a section of a dream that she's about to wake up from. He is waiting for some kind of response. A remark, a protest - some backlash perhaps. But she's got nothing. Absolutely nothing. Except - _Ok Liv?_

When her silence extends out for days, she hears him take a weighted breath. Then it's one loud, forcible tug as the material at her thigh rips, the loud sound emanating through the trailer and into her chest.

 **TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

_This is like three updates in one so you may wish to savour this._

 _I ship your reviews._

 _:::::_

He has ripped her dress half way up her thigh and he isn't stopping. Her hands launch down grasping his forearms. Her throat closing up, her heart hammering.

"Wait," she whispers urgently, breathing into the space between them. Hoping he will feel her panic, her need for just a _second_ to compose herself, to get her head around what is happening before there is no dress left. She feels his hands release the material then and when she doesn't let go of his forearms he moves her further into the bench. Her mouth parting against the motion, a small noise leaving her throat as his body crowds her space.

She lets go of him then, as if that will create some distance but he is moving his free hands downward now, grasping her hips and lifting her upward until her ass has no choice but to take a seat. His whole body moves between her legs then, his wide hips moving her legs apart, their foreheads knocking softly, her breath hitching. She doesn't know what he is doing, what to expect, she hasn't had time to digest a single thing, he is just acting brashly, roughly – out of control.

"Wait-wait-wait," she whispers in a rush, each word tripping over the last and bouncing off the hollow of his neck as he crowds her. But he's not waiting, his hands are moving to the strap of her dress, seizing it with both hands and attempting to rip it apart. Her hands grasp his forearms urgently this time, suddenly in a better position to create the resistance she needs. Her head is screaming at her to launch her body at him, she has the perfect opportunity to knock him backwards in this position but her mind ticks over. She knows it will only be temporary, it will only add fuel to the fire and because his strength will inevitably out do hers, it hits her then; there is another way.

"El please," she whispers suddenly, her voice catching, a rush of softness filling her chest, the urgency falling from her lips and expelling against his. "Please stop." Her voice sounds small, open, fragile - she knows it's a risk going there, letting this sudden vulnerability flood out of her in the hope that it will appeal to whatever moral decency still exists in his heart but she feels it immediately.

She just resurrected his past with two letters.

 _El._

She feels the shift in the room as it draws achingly still. He breathes into the space between them, still holding her firmly, her hands still wrapped around his wrists but everything around them is silent. She pictures a plethora of their history slamming into his chest like it had moments ago for her.

A few solid beats of waiting is all it takes before he releases her strap entirely and alleviates his hold on her upper body. She sees his eyes search hers in the darkness, his hands leaving her body, one scrubbing over his face, the other dropping down and knocking the side of her thigh.

He still hasn't moved out from between her legs but she feels a wealth of personal space around her upper body now. "Damn it Olivia," he expels through the darkness. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

She breathes through the silence, her heart thudding in her chest. She wades it out, hoping to God her attempt to 'fight fire with water' is going to work.

"I'm not," she whispers gently, her words expelling softly between them. "Just give me a second okay," she tells him uneasily, allowing the shakiness in her voice to reverberate purposefully. Her heart thrums at the shift in herself, it boarders on unrecognisable. She doesn't know what part of this is real and what is imagined. She knows she can't sound too forced, too ingenuine - he knows her ' _tells'_ , he knows when she's bullshitting perps like the back of his hand. So she needs authenticity, vulnerability – an openness with him now, she needs to let her guard down. But as her eyes search his with a desperate need for reprieve from all this, the thought sinks in; that this turnaround in her is heartbreakingly real.

"I'm not going to fight you Elliot," she whispers softly, her voice strained from the constricted pressure she feels within her chest, the sentiment of that sentence alone making her head spin. "But you need to take it down a notch okay," she whispers in a breath. "You're scaring me." The statement she never thought she would deliver leaves her lips, the truth of the admission singeing her sides.

He doesn't respond, uncertainty flooding into her now as to how he is taking this new response. She knows he's not going to recognise this wounded, open shell of his ex-partner, with fears, needs and history. There is an air of confusion from him now – a distant apology on his lips, a tinge of regret perhaps. He is looking at her strangely and she wonders if he is no longer seeing her the way she no longer sees him.

He doesn't respond verbally but she feels the intensity between them drop considerably, then it's a few beats of hesitation before his hands are making their way back up to her again. He is less frantic this time, less urgent as his fingers curl around the strap of her dress. "I'm going to cut this off," he tells her quietly, as his other hand reaches for something in his back-pocket and when he pulls out a silver pocket knife she swallows.

He waits a few beats before he flicks the blade outward and raises it to her shoulder. As he begins to slowly hack at the strap of her dress she lets her line of sight move to the column of his neck before the material finally releases. She feels her dress fall down to one side, exposing the top of her black bra and he is returning the knife back to his pocket before his eye-line moves cautiously across to hers.

Everything seems far less heated, far more subdued - yet strangely even more unsettling. She swallows as they lock eyes once more, still on edge as to how to take the man before her. His hands are back on her then and his fingers cupping her neck and she jumps a little in surprise as he slides them higher until they are splaying into her curls. "I'm gonna rough up your hair," he tells her quietly, his eye-line focused on her forehead. His hands are tugging lightly on her hair then, dragging the curls out, making it look messy, roughed up – yanked, pulled. She swallows, her mouth parting as confusion fills her chest at how tender he is suddenly being with her.

As his fingers dig into her scalp her body starts to slow break into tiny goosebumps as he firmly, yet gently tussles her hair. She holds her breath as he moves her body forward and back with a light tugging motion, deliberately careful not to hurt her.

"Now I'm gonna mark your neck," he tells her softly, unable to return her eye contact when he says it. Her heartbeat is a thrum in her chest, her mind can't quite comprehend what exactly he means by that but her fingers are curling over the bench beneath her in preparation.

He's no longer restraining her. Just the firm intrusion of his hips between her legs remain. He moves forward then, his hands drawing her curls to one slide, her heart a violent thrum as she feels his warm breath expel against the column of her neck, shattering her whole body into a plethora of goosebumps.

His lips achingly descending onto the juncture of her neck. She makes a noise. Her eyes still not opening as his mouth presses firmly into her neck. Then she is deathly quiet, perfectly still as he marks her intimately, gently nipping and sucking. She feels his mouth sliding down her collarbone, over the rise of her cleavage where he'd just cut her strap away. He is gentle with her but she can tell the way he is marking her is purposeful, meticulous - nipping firmly enough to leave marks, sucking the flesh where he knows it will swell.

His large hands move down then, grasping her hips, drawing her suddenly forward so he can gain further access to her neck. Her mouth parts, a second noise escaping then because his touch, his mouth, his hands, his hips are all so densely prominent against her body. Her mouth opens, her nipples hardening on their own accord as his pelvis presses against hers, a name from her past getting trapped in her throat.

She's concentrating on the sounds. The slick kisses, the nips, the sucking, the way he is holding her head firmly in place as he marks her neck. She doesn't know if his lower half is pressing into her purposefully or if it's just the angle but she can feel her legs widening with each motion, her dress sliding higher up her thighs - his hips pushing them open as he reaches further, his mouth leaving no recess of her neck untouched.

She can't breathe. Her lungs are completely closed up and something finally snaps within her.

" _Elliot_ ," she warns, but her throat catches part way through and it comes out a whisper. He pulls back slowly, lining up their faces, her heart starting to thud in her open chest when she feels him exhale against her lips. Her mouth parts expectantly, the light breeze of his breath tickling her untouched lips.

"Liv," he whispers against her mouth, her name again, that sentiment, their entire history summed up in three letters. Then with one hand grasping a fist full of her curls, the other framing her cheek he leans in, their foreheads knocking when he says it.

"I gotta kiss you okay," he whispers in a rush, the demand expelling against her lips. Her mind can't quite comprehend what he has just said to her. For a moment she forgets they're undercover, for a second in time it's just Elliot voicing the confession she'd seen across his desk far too many times to count. Her mind swarms. He doesn't _need_ to kiss her does he? Bite marks on her neck, her torn dress, dishevelled hair – surely that's enough.

"Your lipstick.." he whispers. "I need it on my mouth." He answers the question that had been circling her mind as if he could feel the wild panic emanating from her at just the prospect. She mills through the silence and she can tell he is waiting for her to respond, for her to tell him it's ok to press his mouth up against hers, to suck, to grasp to mark them completely clean.

Her eyes blink back at him in the darkness before they begin to trace his features, moving over his irises, down the ridge of his nose until they finally settle on the outline of his mouth. Her heart thrums in bewilderment; unsure of what in Gods name she can say to herself - let alone him, to make this seem right. He had grabbed her ass, her breasts, ripped her dress to shreds and marked her neck but _this_ he waits for permission.

She swallows, she has nothing - there are no words to permit this so instead she lets the flicker of compliance in her eyes seal her death warrant for her. He leans in a lot quicker than she expects, her throat catching as his mouth knocks hers. "Just," she whispers against his mouth, his lips hovering mere millimetres from hers. "Make it quick okay," she tells him in a rush as if that will make this any easier. She closes her eyes then, as if she is bracing herself for something as painful as a blow to the face. She expects intensity, she expects him to comply - to make this fast and goal orientated, direct. She expects him to get this over and done with because like he said – ' _we don't have much time.'_

Instead he loiters, hesitates, lets his forehead bump hers while a whisper of uncertainty starts to radiate from his breath. She can feel his perplexity now, suddenly not wanting to 'take' this from her when it appears he has already taken so much. A barrage of unspoken apologies start to infiltrate her ears then and it feels like hours, days - lifetimes go by before he finally relents, moving forward and irreversibly capturing her bottom lip.

Her chest pounds as his mouth holds hers against his. She feels softness, firmness and rawness all at once, she feels the strength in his hands and the hard ridges of his hips. She feels them exist, just like this, for minutes it seems before he slowly opens his mouth to hers, a breath escaping before he is parting her mouth wider. He draws her bottom lip between his, coating it slowly in juices, before gently releasing it.

He pulls back a little as if he's still finding his bearings with her and she doesn't open her eyes. Her heart is hammering at his tentative nature. She waits through the darkness, concentrating on the fact that his mouth might have left hers but his hands and hips are still holding her firmly against him. When she parts her lips for a breath his mouth is suddenly back against hers, this time drawing her top lip between his with more intensity. She lets him take the lead while matching his pace, allowing herself to somehow keep up with his movements. He tilts his head, pressing his mouth further into hers, opening her lips wider, exhaling into the kiss as his fingers sink into her bare thigh. He tilts his head once more, deepening the kiss, opening her mouth wider, moving her body further into the bench until her head gently knocks a cabinet behind her head.

Her mouth opens and she makes a sound in surprise but it comes out as a low moan and he is exhaling against her, accompanying her reaction with a deep groan. She feels the shift then, the heat escalating as his mouth seeks her out with more urgency, he tugs her body closer to his, his hands snaking through the back of her hair as his teeth clamp down on her lower lip gently nipping, sucking, tugging.

She feels it between her legs, her body instantly betraying her. She wants to moan. She wants to cry. Their mouths are slick with saliva and when he opens her mouth to his once more she loses control, driving her tongue between his lips. He groans unexpectedly the noise echoing in her mouth, his fingers sinking into her hips in response. His teeth clamp down on her lower lip, dragging her lower half flush up against his.

"Ugh," she whimpers and she is practically panting now, noises of her frustration getting swallowed by the force of his mouth.

He brakes the kiss suddenly, his jagged breath heating her face. She aches to get back there, to recapture his lips once more but she feels him holding her at length as the situation registers on his face. She knew this moment would have a shelf life and it seems the panic-stricken reality of it all is finally setting in. He is still holding the back of her neck, still unable to let her go it seems, the heat from his mouth still continuing to warm her lips. He breathes out the intensity as his hand moves around to cup her cheek.

"We gotta," he whispers against her lips, stopping mid-sentence as if he expects her to finish it. When all she does is stare back, her eyes wide with desire, her lips swollen and still parted, she feels him start to move back. The pressure of his wide hips is suddenly leaving her body and he is stepping a few paces away from her before he is turning around completely.

Her eyes run down the plains of his back until they land on his denim covered backside and she swallows, unable to look away, but it doesn't matter because he is already turning around again, this time stepping forward with sudden intent. He grabs her arm, dragging her off the counter until her bare feet return to the ground. Her heart rate jolts, her knees are jelly when she lands, her body still in recovery from his mouth and his hands. He strips off his shirt then, right in front of her - black material coming up and over his head until it's tossed messily to the floor. Her eyes fall instantly down to his exposed chest and her heart thrums in response. There are dips in his abs she hasn't seen before, firm, intentional bulges of muscle that make her throat constrict and a deep set scar that runs from his ribcage to the top of his jeans.

She steps forward unable to refrain from letting her fingers smooth over the scar, touching it tentatively with concern. "What happened?" He grasps her wrist suddenly cutting her off and he is pulling her closer, eliminating the space between them and she feels the heat from his body immediately. "Scratch me," he whispers and he doesn't give her time to process this, just moves both hands up so they're encircling his neck. She swallows as he draws her lower back forward with his palm so they're practically hugging. Her breast press into his bare chest as she grips the tops of his shoulders for stability. Her body still reeling from his mouth, this hands, his hips – she is not prepared for the bareness of his chest this close proximity.

"Defensive wounds Olivia," he rasps through the darkness. "Make em deep."

Her chest is pounding, her body suddenly freezing up and he can feel it.

"Don't think ok, just do."

She digs her nails into the back of his neck then, trying to ignore the way his bare chest scrapes against her lace covered breasts with every breath. She slowly begins to drag them down the length of his neck and she feels him exhale heavily into her space, his fingers sinking into the dip in her lower back in response. He makes a sound, his teeth digging into his lower lip before he releases it.

"Harder." His voice has dropped a full octave, the demand thrumming in her lower belly. Her body reacts to it all. His hands, his tone - his hard demand. His chest flush up against hers, his hip pressing against her crotch. She can't do this - any of it.

"Olivia," he hisses as if he can sense her resistance. "That venom you were spouting at me before.. when you king hit me point blank," he reminds her with force. "Channel that."

She resets her fingers once more, this time taking a deep breath before she drags them firmly downward a second time. He releases a noise in response, she knows she's made an impact but she can tell it wasn't enough.

"Deeper," he grates and she closes her eyes. _Harder. Deeper_. She can't with this. Not when her lower half is thrumming with needs she can't comprehend right now. She needs space - just for a second. She tries to move backwards but he grabs her between the shoulder blades and rams their chests firmly back together for effect.

"I know you're angry at me," he rasps, his voice taking on a darker tone. "I know there are feelings Olivia," he whispers, taking the open dig. "You've got words for me," he bates her loudly. "Three goddamn years of them," he rasps heatedly. "So just do - it."

That does it, the fire within her is ignited and she sinks her nails firmly in, slicing them downward without restraint. He calls out, their legs locking accidently, his body falling into hers as they crash against the bench. She doesn't suffer impact but she hears the groan emanate from the base of his throat from the open wound she had just caused. She does her best to steady their bodies against the bench, his heavy breath warming her neck as he pants out in the aftermath.

She can feel dampness under her fingernails, traces of blood.

"Jesus," he whispers and suddenly he is moving her arms downward, his face drawing ever so closer to hers. She thinks he is going to lash out at that point, give her heat over the pain she'd just caused, instead he just captures her eye contact for one deliberate second. "Ok," he whispers. "Now bite marks," he tells her slowly and her eyes dip unconsciously down to his lips. They're rosy, swollen and laced with hints of her crimson. He grasps her wrists suddenly as if to indicate he is holding her capture and her eye-line flicks back up to his.

"I've got you like this," he whispers, moving her up against the bench, squeezing her wrists for effect. "Where do you bite?"

She swallows, the feeling of his hard body up against hers making her lower-half thrum into gear once more, her eyes flicking immediately to the juncture of his neck. That's where she bites. Hard, firm and unrelenting on the most sensitive part of his throat until he has no choice but to let go - only she can't escape the feeling that she doesn't want him to. She leans in, her lips making contact with his neck, her heart thudding wildly as her mouth brushes the rough exterior of his throat. She pauses, the uncertainty of the situation slamming into her chest, the idea of clamping her teeth firmly enough to leave a deep-seated mark is making her chest pound.

"Elliot," she starts with concern, the makings of her protest falling against his neck.

"Do it Liv," he exhales into the darkness. "Like a band-aid," he tells her, his hand sliding up her back in encouragement until he holds her between the shoulder blades giving her nowhere to go but up against his body.

Her open mouth skims across the juncture of his neck once more, her lips parting but she is frozen. He is holding her firmly in waiting, her hardened nipples grating across the bareness of his chest with each breath, his large hands are holding her body and there is still a deep, languid thrum in her lower belly where his thigh rests between her legs. His mouth drops down to her ear then and she can feel the shift in his body language, his voice low as his lips scrape the shell of her ear.

"Olivia," he warns throatily. "Do I have to grab your ass again?" he whispers.

Her chest pounds at his threat, a pang throbbing between her legs as her breath gets lodged in her chest once more. She knows what he's doing. He is bating her, attempting to piss her off, rile her up so she literally 'bites' back, but he's done the complete opposite. Her body is spiralling uncontrollably with want and she is no longer able to focus on anything other than his hands that are inches away from her backside.

"Do it," he whispers, and her heart pounds because her lips ache to say that same to him.

She clamps her teeth over the skin then, nipping lightly at first before pressing her lips against his throat and sucking firmly. She grasps the back of his neck and she hears him make a noise as her lips firmly increase their pressure, sucking on the ridge of his throat. A hand drives up into her curls and he tugs her back suddenly, her lips releasing his neck with a slick pop. His mouth drops downward, his breath suddenly expelling against her wet lips and for a moment they just breathe into each others parted slick mouths until he finally says it.

"Bite marks Olivia," he rasps. "Not hickeys."

Her chest pounds against his and she sucks in a breath, when she feels him let go she moves forward once more until her lips are latching onto the damp patch she left, her teeth firmly digging in this time. He makes a noise, swallowing against her bite. He breathes out as his fingers sink into her waist in response. She tastes salt, sweat and sweetness all at once and all she can feel is the hard edges of his body pressing into the soft curves of hers.

"Harder," he rasps, urging her to increase the pressure.

But she can't - she just can't. She releases his neck and sucks in a heavy breath.

He groans his frustration then before tugging her back until her face is lined up with his. "You wanna start taking this seriously," he whispers, his deep blue eyes probing hers. "Or you wanna get us killed?" He is pressing her back up against the counter again and a noise escapes her from the sudden pressure against her lower back. There is heat in her cheeks, a flame of want spreading across her chest. She can't control it, she can't focus on a damn thing, not when the full length of his body is flush up against hers. Her eyes dip down to his lips as his lower half presses into hers. She wants to moan but she manages just a breath to escape her before she says it.

"I'm sorry I find it so hard inflicting pain on you," she whispers, making it a point to sound pissed off. "Something you seem to have no problem doing." A wealth of accusation fires out in her words but there is no mistaking the underlining want beneath. It's clouding her judgment, her body, her breath, her cheeks and as his blue eyes flick between hers, she knows he can see it. He is like a dog with a bone then, something flicks within his irises and there is no going back.

He drags her face forward until his mouth crashes over hers. A moan escapes her suddenly, her stomach dropping ten floors when she feels him draw her top lip between his, the fullness of his wet lips taking her openly. He tugs on her top lip, his hip pressing her into the counter as his hands slide upward and through her curls. He opens her mouth to his then and it's instant he is sliding his tongue between her lips immediately, a pang throbbing in her lower belly, a moan getting trapped in the recesses of his mouth. He groans in response and he is nipping her now, digging his teeth softly into her lower lip making her heart rate soar in response.

She feels the difference undoubtedly, this is no longer under the guise of lipstick, his hands instead are roaming unabashedly, skimming up the plains of her torso, his other grasping the underside of her thigh, raising it upward until he is pressing himself between her legs. She moans, breaking the kiss as she feels his hardness press intimately against her core. Her head falls backward, his hand sliding across her shoulder blade until it curls behind her neck tugging her mouth back to his. His lips fall onto hers once more, his tongue driving into her slick recesses, the tip of his tongue darting out and swiping across hers, their heavy pants getting trapped in each others breaths before she rocks her lower half purposefully into his erection, a deep groan emanating from the base of his throat in response.

He breaks the kiss suddenly, their jagged panting intertwining with each breath. "Fuck-k," he whispers against her lips, his mouth still nipping hers, still holding her firmly up against the bench. And yes. _Fuck-k_. Is correct. Fuck-k is the only accurate description of their current predicament right now. There are imminent dangers looming but she is choosing to block it all out for the heat of his mouth. He sucks on her lower lip for one, drawn out moment before he finally releases it. "Three years," he whispers against her mouth. "I've thought about this," he tells her. "Thought about you Liv." He leans in nipping her lower lip once more, her heartbeat thrumming in response as her fingers sink into the back of his neck in waiting.

"But not.." he rushes heatedly, his voice torn between his excruciating want and his unyielding restraint. "Not like this."

The words slice into her. And she knows. Of course she knows. She shouldn't be here, up against a counter, in a trailer - in the middle of nowhere while her ex-partner presses his hard-on between her legs and traps her every breath within his throat. She wants to care about her surroundings. She does. She wants to register the horrors that await her. But she is completely closed off against the reality of the situation, solely focused on keeping the heat between their bodies contained for as long as possible.

"I'm sorry that you're here Liv," he whispers painfully against her mouth, his voice breaking when he says her name. Then it's his forehead against hers that causes her eyes to finally slip back open. "But I'm also not sorry," he tells her softly.

The admission rocks her on the feet, his words, his hands, his warmth - all achingly welcome, all still robbing her body of much-needed oxygen and it hits her in that second - that if these are her last moments here on this earth.

She's not sorry either.

 **TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you for your response to this story. It makes all my days._

 _Happy 4th of July ya'll._

 _:::::_

He eases up his hold on her body and he is slowly stepping backwards - creating space. Her body is still on fire from his touch as he stares at her intently from a short distance away. She watches the muscles in his jaw jump with each breath and she tries to clear her throat from the intensity.

He looks like he is debating something in his mind.

"Listen," he says finally, removing his eye contact when he says it. "I've been thinking bout ways I can bargain with them," he tells her quietly, his accent thick with deliberation. "To keep you here.." he explains, his voice low, his eyes finally making their way back to hers to gauge her reaction so far.

Her heartbeat is thumping wildly at the prospect _. Keep her here?_ What - handcuffed in the trailer all day? And then what? Wait for him to come home and 're-mark' her every night?

"They owe me favors.. I can prolong this - just until I can figure out how to get you out safely."

"Elliot," she begins, pushing herself off the counter, starting to step forward.

"I know," he expels softly, scratching his jaw. "I know, it's risky, this whole idea of it, it's got it's own set of loopholes – at any moment they could turn on you, but the only other option is."

She watches the side of his face as he struggles to say it.

"What?" she pushes.

"We dump your body like the rest of them," he whispers his eyes reconnecting with hers when he says it. "Sooner rather than later.. tonight even."

She blinks back at him in response.

"I tell them I'm done with you and I'm taking you for a drive-"

"And they're just gonna let you drive me outta here Elliot? You needed a babysitter for my body search for Christ Sake."

He looks away, the memory of the infraction seeming to be too much for him to acknowledge right now.

"Not alone," Elliot corrects her softly. "Tony rides with me for the dumps and 7 times out of 10.. they get away."

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "And they're not onto you yet? Elliot how bad at your job can you be before they suspect-"

"They _look_ dead," he cuts her off firmly. "They _act_ dead," he tells her. "I tell them what to do, and they do it," he lets the sentiment of that hang between them, the expectations he would have of her if they were to go down this track. "And as long as Tony doesn't get wise, the ones that can pull it off… survive."

Olivia nods.

"Okay," she responds. "And the ones that don't?" she asks quietly, not sure she wants to hear the answer.

Elliot sucks in a long weighted breath.

"Tony finishes them off."

Olivia swallows. It's all she can do at this point. She understands the plan, she understands the risks but there is one hitch in this plan that she can't seem to conceive.

"And what about you?" she whispers, chancing a brief glance up at him. "You dump my body in the woods – and then what? All going well I _maybe_ see you one day at a precinct reunion party?"

"Liv," he sighs.

"No," she steps forward cutting him off. "We might have ended up here tonight as part of some sort of inconceivable coincidence, but I'm here now Elliot and whether you like it or not I'm not just going to walk away and spend rest of my days wondering if you ever got out. I've already spent three years in the dark, I'm done with not knowing-"

"So what do you suggest Liv? You wanna to skip out of here right now and just call it a day?" his eyes narrow in sarcasm. "It doesn't work like that. You of all people should know. I have a job to do here, I have handlers I report to, I've spent _years_ on this case Olivia, years planting seeds. I am saving lives and I can't just walk away from that because you want daily updates on my wellbeing."

She studies him intently, his words, his expressions, traces of her old partner seeping through in his inflections but for the most part he is a hardened shell of his former life. His words are brutal, his speech is tired and overused and it's most likely a version that he repeats to himself when he can't sleep at night.

"Your _job_ ," she steps forward, ensuring their proximity draws closer when she says it. "Is slowly killing you Elliot, that was evident from the moment I walked in here." She rasps. "The Elliot Stabler I know," she says with an eyebrow raise, "is not here right now." She tries to steady her voice when she says it, tries to keep the emotion from her tone and her glare as hardened as his. "So keep telling yourself that you're making a difference here, _saving_ lives - but all you're doing is causing more hurt in this world while escaping your own," she whispers.

She watches the fire in his eyes crackle under her blatant accusation, the emotion mounting from her words. She can feel the distant pinpricks of tears tugging at her recesses but she fights it, swallowing it back down because she can't lose it now. She has to stay strong - to get this out, so she doesn't have to spend another moment with it trapped inside her.

"How often do you call Kathy?" she whispers through narrowed accusatory eyes, a sudden hardness to taking hold of her words. "You check in with your handlers but how often do you call your wife?" She sees the answer clear as day in his features and she shakes her head at him. "About as often as you used to call her at the precinct I bet. Jesus Elliot, you're so goddamn selfish - how long are you going run from your life and everyone who cares about you? How long are you going to run from yourself-"

"Screw - you," he cuts her off, but his harsh words don't shock her, they only illustrate her point. "If I was anything like them, you'd be lying lifeless in a ditch somewhere Olivia," he launches in with a yell. "So you can spout all the BS you like – you think you know me? You think you know my business? You have no goddamn idea what I've been dealing with Olivia. Things change – situations change, so don't you dare tell me what I'm doing here is all for _nothing_ -"

"I don't care what you're up against Elliot - you stay here any longer," she cuts him off. "You're gonna end up just like them. It's already starting and you can say goodbye to your family when it does." She steps in closer now, too heated to back down. "You think your kids are gonna wanna be around you like this? _I_ don't even want to be around you like this."

"You -" he steps forward using her sudden proximity as an excuse to grab her upper arms and move her firmly against the bench once more. "Don't have a choice in the matter." Her breath hitches as his whole body presses her up against wood and his hands heatedly move downward seizing her wrists.

She loses breath as she feels the pinch of his fingers into her skin. Her heart rate catapults. His dominance is back in full force. She's pushed him too far. She played the personal card, the thought of his kids has rattled him back to reality and now he is playing the only card he has - his _strength_. She tries to struggle out of his hold but he has her firmly now dragging her forward until their foreheads knock.

It's not like before. This is not sexual. This is not passion. This is not emotion. This is a detached, measured, clinical threat. Her fingers curl over into fists, trying redundantly to break free. She wants to tell him to loosen his grip – and _now,_ because he's actually hurting her this time.

"You really wanna test me?" He whispers against her forehead and she tries to turn her face away from him, away from this version of him. "I've gone easy on you Olivia, but go ahead - push it – push me, see what happens – maybe then you'll start shutting your goddamn mouth long enough to save your own life."

Her heart breaks at that point and it's instant, liquid trails the rim of her eyes before tears are cascading downward without restraint – they spill in seconds, silent streams marking her face as he continues to hold her far too tightly that he needs to.

"You're an asshole," she whispers, her breath hitching, as an emotion filled gasp of disbelief escapes. She turns her face as far away from him as possible in his hold. Her voice had been so small, so broken so deflated. "What else could you possibly do to me?" she whispers, her words a humorless, broken tremor as she feels the liquid start to pool in her nostrils. "You've gone easy on me huh?" She lets out an empty laugh, sucking back the emotion, swallowing the phlegm in her throat. "You're a fucking _joke_ Elliot," she whispers, her breath getting smothered by his unwelcome proximity. "Tell me, what else my partner is going to 'do to me' if I test him?" She gasps through the streaming tears. "You really gonna give it to me this time? Huh? Teach me a real lesson."

He lets go of her then and it's so sudden she stumbles a little on her feet. She feels his whole body release her as he steps back, just a half step so he is no longer physically touching her. She stands there, a vacant shell, unable to lift her head to even look at him at this point. Her hands are trembling, it had all come out. There was no going back now, she had just proven in seconds the devastation his absence and presence has always caused her.

"Everything I have ever done has been to protect you Olivia," he whispers across to her in the darkness. She blinks in response her eyes trained firmly on the ground, an emptiness filling her chest where hope had previously resided. "Even this," he whispers in a breath. But the words aren't touching her sides, they aren't even penetrating her ears. His eyes are on the side of her face, just observing the streams of silent tears that continue to fall, making no motions to comfort her physically or emotionally.

"Maybe one day," he whispers silently. "You will realize that."

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

_This story is such a tease. I'm sorry._

 _:::::_

"I'm gonna to choke you," Elliot tells her to the side of her face. "And you're gonna fight me until I take your last breath." The words leave his throat with ease. "I'll be sitting on your stomach with both hands around your throat."

The tears on Olivia's face have long since dried up and the stale scent of the trailer has become more of a focus than the plan Elliot is currently spouting at her. He has been explaining what he intends to do for a good five minutes from the moment they get to the car, to the moment they reach the dumping point.

She has barely acknowledged a part of it.

When her silence extends into the space he leaves for her to respond she can tell his irritation with her is reaching breaking point.

"Are you even listening?" he rasps.

She doesn't flinch, she doesn't move, her eyes remain transfixed on a stain beneath his feet as if she is memorized by it.

"Do you even care…" he whispers to the side of her face. "about anything?"

She raises her dark eyes to his then, giving him a look of utter disbelief that he is challenging her on how much she is seeming to care. But she doesn't respond because his question doesn't warrant an answer.

"Look, you can hate me all you want Olivia, but this isn't a game," he tells her firmly. "This is your life - and _my_ life. So you better start-"

She steps forward then, the idea she had been contemplating from the moment he had roughed her up suddenly kicking into gear. The emotion has long since been spilled and she is unbothered now - vacant and purpose driven as if her head has been cleared. She feels him flinch when her body comes into contact with his, her fingers skimming over the sides of his bare torso as she moves in closer, her hands sliding around to his lower back. She is unattached to any reaction her sudden actions are about to cause.

"What are you-" he whispers as his mouth knocks her temple but she is too focused on her hand that is slipping into the back pocket of his jeans. She feels nothing in the first pocket but the ridge of his backside, so she lets her other hand slide into the adjacent pocket, her breasts pushing incidentally against the wall of his chest. She feels Elliot exhale into her locks as her fingers curl over the pocket knife she is seeking. She knows she doesn't need to be this close to retrieve it, but it's her best chance at shocking him into submission long enough to seize it.

He isn't making any movements to stop her and when she pulls back, he just watches as she turns away dragging up her dress at her thigh and slotting the pocket knife into the side of her underwear. She drops the material then, letting it cascade back down her thigh before she turns back around to face him.

"What are you doing?" he whispers in response.

She clears her throat. "Just in case your plan goes to hell.. I want my own protection."

He eyes her cautiously as if debating his next choice of words, a little taken aback by the bold move she had just pulled.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he tells her carefully.

"Why?" she gives him a humorless smile, "Because it's not yours?"

She watches his eyes narrow at her then and she can feel his anger escalating in response to her jab.

"Because I've been doing this for _three_ years Olivia," he says through gritted teeth, not breaking their eye contact for a second. "Tony catches you with my knife on you and you're as good as dead," he tells her with all the seriousness he can muster.

"I think I can handle Tony," she tells him with a scoff. "Believe me Elliot, I've handled a lot worse." Her eyes flicker then, images of Lewis threatening to rock her in that moment but she stands firm under the heat of Elliot's gaze.

He is trying to read her, deep blue questioning hues penetrating hers before he continues cautiously.

"Listen," he starts and she knows that tone, she's geared up for that tone, he's going to start to placate her now like some weakened, vulnerable victim. "I get it, I know you want some power here Liv, I understand that. But in this situation we are not partners, this is not your case. I know the ropes here, I am prepared for this – so trust me when I say you don't want that knife on you."

"I think I'll take my chances," she tells him pointedly.

"Damn it Olivia," he rasps and he is stepping forward now. She waits for his hands to grab her at that point but they just curl over at his sides, his eyes boring into hers as one hand knocks her hip where the knife resides, an indication that he can take it at any second. "You've got 10 seconds to give me that knife or I swear to God I'll-"

"You'll what?" she whispers throatily, her nails digging into the wood beneath her just waiting for him to do it. His eyes continue to flit between hers, gauging her reaction, unsure if she is bluffing or what the hell kind of game she is playing. She can see his chest rising and falling with each weighted breath before he finally says it.

"You know I'll do it," he warns her, his threat falling against her face but she can see the panic in his eyes, the way his adams apple bobs uncomfortably at the thought of having to take this from her. She wants to scoff - the amount of boundaries he has already crossed tonight this would barely be a blip on the radar. _'Just do it',_ she wants to yell but her eyes simply narrow instead, as if she expects nothing less from him.

He isn't making a move. Maybe the guilt of his actions is finally catching up to him. Maybe the idea of his hands beneath her dress without Tony calling the shots is a step too far. Or maybe he is just dragging this out - making her sweat, like a caged mouse at the mercy of an enraged lion.

"You wanna strip me of my safety Elliot, fine but that's on you," her dark eyes narrow against his. She feels his fingers flex against her side then knocking her hip, making her chest pound with anxiety at each passing second. Elliot's lips part and he steps a little closer - she braces herself for his hands, her reflexes at high alert ready to grab him the moment he tries something. But she can see it in his eyes, he isn't going there, instead he is blindsiding her, moving his hand upward grasping her cheek, her breath hitching as he gently lines up her face with his.

He gains her full eye contact before he says it.

"Listen to me." His breath exhales against her mouth, her heartbeat quickening as her fingers dig into the bench beneath her. "I'm.. your safety," he whispers against her mouth and she isn't expecting this - any part of it. It's not a warning, it's a promise and her chest is pouding as her mouth parts absently, swallowing against the side of his palm.

"You got that Liv?" His eyes flick back and forth between hers and there is no seduction in his voice just the God's honest truth it seems and it's weakening every part of her. His chest is scraping the tips of her breasts and she is struggling to breathe. She feels his other hand grasp waist, just above the knife holding her in place and she doesn't know what this is. She doesn't know if this is real or imagined or if he is just fucking with her.

"You don't need it," his whispers, his thumb swiping over so lightly across her waist then. "Trust me."

He could easily take it from her at this point, that's all she's focused on. She doesn't understand where this new newfound patience has come from and she is struggling to reconcile it with the man who moments ago held her firmly against her will.

She swallows, her heartbeat thumping wildly as she slips a hand downward, knocking his on the decent and she grasps the lip of her dress, gathering it one handed and tugging it slowly upward. He is still staring at her intently, watching her uncertain eyes as she fishes the rectangular knife from her side of her underwear.

She removes it completely before the material skims back her thigh. He still has her by the waist, she is holding the knife in her clammy palm, she doesn't hand it to him, he doesn't take it from her. They both just continue to stare at each other intently until his eyes suddenly and unexpectedly drop down to her mouth.

She closes her eyes immediately.

"Don't." The word escapes her before she can stop herself. She moves the knife into his hand then, the one still holding her hip and when he won't take it she presses it up against the wall of his bare chest until his hand has no choice but to close over hers.

"Take it," she rasps, her voice cracking from the emotion, her body reeling over their proximity and this new unsettling shift in her ex partner. He is holding her hand underneath his, keeping her close when he says it.

"I'm sorry Liv," he whispers between the small space between them, using her hand to keep her as close as he can as he breathes into the jagged space between them. "For everything," he tells her genuinely. But his words are barely audible, his voice cracking under the strain of his admission and she sees the emotion pooling in his irises clear as day. "I wish things could have been different-"

"Stop," she moves into him then. "Just stop," she pushes him physically backwards until he is completely off her. He finally takes the knife from under her palm and she's moving out and away from him entirely.

Her hands are trembling, her eyes are starting to bud once more with a fresh batch of tears. She can't do this. She can't play this game with him anymore. She isn't strong enough for this ping-pong tournament of emotions. She thought she wanted to hear his words, his reasonings, his apologies, but truth be told she knows nothing he could say tonight would make it any easier for her to leave. She makes it a few steps away from him before she turns around and she can't even lift her eyes up to meet his at this point.

"I just want this to be over okay." Her voice is small, trapped and tired. "All of it," she whispers, the sentiment of that extending well past the events of this evening. "So just tell me what to do and I'll do it." She finally lifts her eyes and captures a whole wealth of emotion from him that she isn't prepared to see.

A few beats pass before he is moving slowly towards her and her eyes flicker as he approaches. Her fingers curl into the centre of her palms, her stomach spirals and she is shaking her head from side to side in silent refusal, her eyes pleading with him not to do this.

A timeless, unspoken moment invades their space as he stops a step before her and her heart pummels in response.

Then it's moments before his gaze finally and reluctantly falls away from her face.

"Alright Liv," he whispers his an unspoken surrender.

"This is what we do."

 **TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

_Don't worry even I annoy myself with these delays believe me! Hashtag forever sorry. But also not sorry because life and emotions. But mostly sorry._

 _This chapter is dedicated to Jamie for so kindly housing me in her home._ _Girl you're amazing and I miss you on the daily. Can we be roommates please?_

 _(Sends you a virtual venti quad hot white chocolate_ _coconut milk_ _mocca with no whip - or whatever the hell it is you drink ?)_

 _Sorry I'm late on my rent but in my defence I rewrote this scene 3 times so does that count for 3 lol?_

 _Either way I apologise for choosing this version.._

:::

She moves towards the trailer door, scooping up her heels in one motion. She is ready to leave his space, this moment - the increasingly unpleasant stench of the trailer. Elliot had just spent the good part of half an hour finishing off the details of what was to come and she had simply nodded in response. But as her free hand reaches out to grasp the handle of the trailer she feels Elliot behind her, his strong hands, possessive, urgent - wrapping around her upper arms, tugging her backwards until her shoulder blades meet with the wall of his chest.

She feels the bottom of his chin knock the crown of her head. His fingers squeeze her upper arms gently and she senses the emotion beneath it. She doesn't tense, as if she expected this. She knows there is still unfinished business - still unspoken words between them and it hadn't escaped her that her sudden departure was her way of avoiding them. She was so close to leaving, so close to ending this for them but he just had to have the final word. She can feel him wanting to turn her around for this but maybe it's easier this way.

She expects words at that point but it's a hand she feels moving off her bicep and sliding possessively around her waist. He holds her against him, her whole body sinking into this backwards hug. She feels it all then, the hard planes of his chest, the front of his thighs pressing up against the backs of hers. His breath expels into the back of her head and goosebumps shatter across her skin. She wants to hold onto the anger, but his proximity is wearing her down, every passing second obliterating all sense of control.

"Tonight," he whispers just above her ear and her legs are practically jelly beneath her. "Can only go two ways," he whispers. And despite the way he is holding her, his words aren't intimate, they're factual.

"Either way.. " he tells her quietly. "This is _it_ for us."

Time as she knows it stops in that moment. She is still. She doesn't swallow. She doesn't even blink through the darkness. There is a distant humming in her ears.

 _This is it for us._

She feels sick. Her eyes start to prick with expected emotion and her chest starts to rise and fall with the sudden need to defy him. It's not new information but the way he just delivered it might as well have been a stake through the heart.

"Did you hear me Liv?" he whispers through the silence.

 _Did she hear him?_ _Did she hear him just severe their entire past, present and future. Yes.. yes she heard him loud and clear._

In the absence of her voicebox her free hand moves downward, over his and she is grasping his fingers trying to peal them off her but he seizes her hand immediately and stills it against her.

She can feel his mouth moving against the tresses of her hair and she wades through the moments of silence before he speaks again. "You and I," he breathes out as if it's ok to put them together like that. Like tea and coffee. Salt and pepper. Wine and cheese. "I just.. couldn't do it anymore Liv," he tells her softly. She is going to tell him to stop – to stop speaking, to stop talking – to just stop all of it now. But nothing comes out. Nothing but a fresh sheen of liquid lining her irises, that now threatens to overspill.

"Another year," he continues, ignoring her blatant discomfort. "And I would have broken," he tells her, his lips nicking the back of her neck and she holds her breath, keeping her emotion contained. "I would have touched you," he whispers heatedly. "I would have done something like _this_ ," he drags lips against the back of her neck as his brazen hands continue to hold her possessively. She cannot breathe at that point, she cannot concentrate on anything but the hard and unforgiving plains of his body. "And you would have kicked my ass," he whispers just above her ear and she feels the intensity in his words, almost as if he is angry at her for it. "But no matter how many ways we could've rolled that dice Olivia," his voice strains as the final words escape him. "We would have lost."

His words pulverize her. She feels physical pain pierce through her heart.

 _We would have lost._

As if that was always going to be their path and there wasn't a goddamn thing she could have done about it. She chokes on a sob and it's immediate, she wants out of this and as far away as she can possibly get. "Let me go," she whispers in a breath and when she tries to yank out of his hold he tugs her back to him as if he had expected it.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he rasps above her ear, his breath tickling her neck as he holds her firmly around the waist. He is bating her. She knows this tone and he's going to be like a dog with a bone till he gets what he wants from her. "Tell me how you think it could worked Liv – lie to my face," he digs. And she knows what he is doing now. He is trying to hurt her in any which way he can so she leaves tonight and never looks back. She is still struggling against him, her bare feet slipping against the lino as she tries to get enough leverage to pull away from him. "You wanna blame me for it all, go ahead hate me for this, but you and I both know I did us a favor."

"Screw you," she whispers into the darkness because he has taken it all from her and the worst part is he doesn't even seem to care. She sinks back into his hold then, because he has given her nowhere to go, his lips bump the back of her head in the process and she closes her eyes.

"I know," he whispers into her hair, his own body softening in response to hers. "I fucked up," his admission all of a sudden causes a stir in the depths of her tummy. She can feel it then, the tension escalating, his words mounting, pure emotion rising within him before he delivers the final blow to her heart.

"You don't fall in love with your partner."

Her heels drop heavily onto the floor then, her heart suddenly thumping into overdrive. Her free hand moves backward intent on pushing him off her but when it makes contact with the firm muscle of his upper thigh, her fingers dig into the denim of his jeans and he breathes out heavily in response as his lips scraping across the shell of her ear.

 _Jesus Christ._

He is moving a hand upward to cup the underside of her chin and tilting her head gently to the side. "God I wanna kiss you," he whispers throatily, his words expelling across the shell of her ear, the whole expanse of his forearm scraping achingly across the lace of her partially exposed bra. Her nipple tightens in response and a pang of unanticipated heat floods her lower belly. "Please Liv," he whispers and her throat catches as his forearm presses intimately against her breasts as he continues to hold her jaw.

Her mouth makes motions to respond but she is stopped in her tracks because his lips are on her neck, his hot mouth pressing into skin, his tongue darting out trailing over the patch of skin before his lips press firmly down in a heated kiss that floods her entire body with goosebumps. A sound escapes her as his hand slides down her jaw until his fingers are splaying around her throat. Her fingernails sink into denim once more as he nips the back of her neck with his teeth.

She wants to moan. Her body is breaking from his touch, his mouth, his heat but it's his words she can't shake. His words she cannot ignore. _This is it for us._ He continues to mark the back of her neck as she swallows against his palm. His hand is moving then downward then, sliding down the smooth skin of her throat, brushing lightly across her collarbones heading downwards, marking an unmistakeable trail towards her breasts. She is breathing heavily, a bout of paralysis shooting up her legs and she can barely hold herself up. Sudden emotion starts to pour out of her at that point, tears begin to trickle from the corners of her eyes as she loses the battle to contain them. She knows what she is about to say is going to sever him, it will sever her, but if this truly ends tonight, she knows there is no other way.

"If this is _it_ for us Elliot," she whispers into the darkness, her throat thick with congealed emotion, her chest pounding with a thrum of immanent self destruction as she presses her eyes closed to say it.

"Then you need to let me go."

 **TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

_Social Cat, this one's for you. Thank you for letting me crash at your house! You're amazing._

 _P.S. Here I go again with my awkward dedication chapters._

 _Sidebar: Thanks for the inspo today Darla! Much love._

:::::

 _You need to let me go._

The words echo through the trailer and Olivia wades through the silence. A few beats pass, all she can feel is the heat of his breath on her neck and his unwavering hold around her waist. She tries to step forward expecting him to release her. _He doesn't._

She tries again but he has her even tighter and this time she barely moves an inch.

 _Son of a bitch._

 _S_ he hears his breathing escalate from her redundant motions. She wants to say something – anything but his body, the heat of his bare chest, his brashness are all rendering her still. Her fingers move towards his iron grip around her waist. She smoothes her hands over the expanse of his forearms until they reach his fingers and she gently begins to peal his hands off her. His nose bumps the back of her head and he moans his disapproval, causing a plethora of goosebumps to race across her flesh.

 _Don't._ She wants to say but it's her bare feet that manage to find some traction and she is turning, a complete 180 until she is flush up against his chest. She lets out a noise of protest as he continues to sandwich their bodies together intimately, her breasts pressing against his bare torso, the top of her thigh is between his legs as her face has no place to go but the crook of his neck. She tries to move backwards, hoping she'd have more leverage from this angle but he isn't having it.

"Elliot .." the low and throaty sound bounces of the crux of his neck as she finally finds her voice. He is moving her then, stepping her backwards, a sound of exertion leaving her throat as her entire backside makes contact with the wood of the trailer door. She feels every inch of him against her, his chest, thighs, his crotch. Her heartbeat hammers in her chest as his mouth dips dangerously close to hers. He had the foresight to buffer the back of her head with his palm and it's clear as to why when his mouth leans in. Her head twists just in time to dodge his impending mouth, instead they skim across her cheek and stop just above her ear. She feels his ragged, dissatisfied exhale tickle her neck as his fingers press gently into the back of her scalp.

" _Kiss_ me goddamn it," he growls in her ear, his brash demand sending a pang of desire to her lower abdomen. His unwavering strength is back in full force and as his chest moves against hers her nipples can't help but tighten in response. She doesn't answer him, her voice is trapped somewhere against the warmth of his body, instead she moves her fingers to the solid frame of his waist attempting resist their proximity. He humours her for a few beats before his hands slip forward, framing her cheeks and suddenly he is leaning in.

His lips press firmly against her mouth and he holds her still for a law drawn out, languid beat. She makes a small sound, her hands moving to his forearms, grasping them until her nails dig in. He moans through the pain, his lips lifting off hers momentarily and it's enough for her to suck in breath. "I hate you," she whispers throatily against his open mouth and he pauses momentarily, before they close over hers more urgently this time. His hands are framing her cheeks as he tilts her head, deepening the kiss and when he slides a tongue into her depths and she can't help but moan in response. Her body is breaking, her heart is hammering. No part of him deserves this reaction from her but she is torn between the boundaries he is crossing and her bodies unwarranted response to his touch.

He is the first to break the kiss, holding her stationary as his crystal blues bore into hers, searching for reassurance. "Good," he whispers against her mouth before he skims his rosy lips across her swollen lips. She is out of breath as his teeth nip lightly on her lower lip, her nails continuing to dig into the sensitive skin of his wrists. The wall of his chest rubs against her peaked nipples and she is losing control of her body. "Good Liv," he repeats and her heart thuds, her body breaking when she realizes what he is doing. "I _need_ you to hate me," he rasps before his lips press against hers once more, a stray hand sliding down the ridge of her waist until is grasping her hip holding her lower half against the door, the thud of the motion echoing through the trailer.

He opens her mouth wider, his lips capturing her lower lip as his fingers drive through her hair. The top of his upper thigh somehow manages to wedge itself between her dress and is now pressing directly between her legs. As his mouth continues it's attack on hers all she can focus on is rough denim that's now scraping achingly across the front of her panties. Her mouth opens to moan and he takes it as an excuse to plunge his tongue between her lips, swiping the tip of hers as he increases the pressure between her legs. Her breath hitches in response, the door buckling under the pressure of their weight as denim presses directly against her clit.

"Ugh," she is panting against his mouth, he isn't tapering down and he's going to make her come just from this friction alone. She brakes the kiss, her head thudding back against the wood and his lips are on her neck before she knows it. He nipping at her skin, his hand sliding upward moving across her breast until he is grasping her fullness in her palm and squeezing. Her eyes drift closed as he thumbs her laced covered nipple and she feels a pang between her legs.

"El," she goes to grasp his wrist, to get a hold of herself, to regain her bearings and control of the situation but instead she finds herself closing her palm over his and holding it firmly against her breast. He groans in response, leaning in until his lips scrape the shell of her ear. "Liv," he whispers, his voice dragging, his throaty timbre causing a rush of heat to pool between her legs. "I gotta touch you." Her eyes slip open and there are no words, no coherency from her, just her eyes moving up from his bare chest to his swollen mouth and then finally up to his darkened eyes.

"Please," he repeats and her heart is an incessant thud as she slowly moves his hand off her breast and drags it down her body towards the lip of her dress. As his fingers hit the bare skin of her thigh he exhales expectantly into her neck, his hand slipping beneath the material in seconds, his fingers encircling the back of her knee, hoisting a leg up to his hip. He waits a few beats before he presses forward, his denim covered hard-on pressing flush up against her clit. Her head drops backward and she groans loudly the noise echoing through the trailer. His hand moves up, his palm covering her mouth instantly. Her throat catches as she breathes beneath the pressure of his hand and her eyes slip closed as she feels every inch of his hardness against her.

His lips brush across her forehead before he whispers against her temple. "Shhh." And it's a startling reminder as to where they are. Then it hits. No moaning. No groaning. No pleasure is to be had here. She continues to breathe against the force of his hand before it slowly slips off lips and instead his thumb is parting her lower lip until his mouth is dropping back down to hers, kissing her far more languidly this time.

Her palms are clammy as they cling to his forearm before she feels a hand slide back down to the ridge of her hip. Her leg is still propped against him, the force of his hip still holding her against the wood and his hand is moving between their bodies, dragging her dress upward from the front, pooling the material at her waist before he is dropping his hand between her legs.

Her legs are parted wide enough so that when he touches her his entire palm coats her mound. A noise leaves her throat as she takes in a sharp breath. He is watching her as he begins to stroke her gently and she breathes out heavily at the unexpected intimate contact. His eyes bore into hers as he runs his fingers across her lightly before he turns them around and scrapes his rough knuckles across her clit. Her breathing is ragged and when he presses two fingers deep against her covered slit, her mouth parts as he practically penetrates her through lace.

She is dripping, she can feel the liquid heat pooling beneath his touch, the friction heightening as he rubs damp lace directly against her swollen clit. She bucks against his pressure, he is breathing heavily in her space as his hooded eyes take in each and every reaction that flits across her face as he strokes her. Her hard lace covered nipples scrape against his bare chest with each motion and he is groaning into her neck, slipping his fingers beneath the material of her panties before and she practically chokes on her breath as he drags his fingers down her open wet heat, coating them in juices before sliding back up and stroking her clit.

"Fu- El," she whimpers openly and her eyes slip closed as he presses forward, a rush of liquid pooling against his fingers, the wood behind them bucking as her ass thuds against the rickety door that's only just holding their weight.

"Open your eyes Liv," he whispers against her forehead and she opens them just in time for him to drag the tips of his fingers against her clit, once, twice, three times. He watches every part of her pleasure ripple across her face as her fingernails dig roughly into the forearm that's still cupping the back of her head. Her breathing heightens as his erection continues to prod at her stomach and all she can think about is how badly she wants to release it from it's denim enclosure.

He watches her with a knowing, almost as if he can read her thoughts and his mouth is back on hers in seconds. She holds her breath as two thick fingers stake claim at her entrance, a warning of the girth that he can push inside her any moment. His mouth parts her lips and he just breathes against her as his thumb drags back and forth across her clit making her buck once - twice causing her teeth to clamp down over his lower lip in agony.

She releases him, sucking in a breath. "Fu- El," her barely coherent response getting trapped in the recesses of his mouth. "Pl-ease _,_ " she whispers and he is moving forward then and it's three unwavering beats before he slides a thick finger inside her. Her tight folds clamp over him immediately and it's Elliot's deep groan that fills her ears as he fills her body. She moans in encouragement as he starts to slide in and out of her core, retracting briefly to slide a second finger into her heat. Her head falls back against the door once more as her legs part against his hips, her walls stretching to accomodate his digits, her whole body arching against wood.

She is breathing heavily against him, his ragged shallow pants mirroring hers. She blocks out their surroundings, the danger, and their imminent, mind-numbing departure and just focuses on her partner. Elliot Stabler. Her rock. Her world. Her protector. His warm cocoon caging hers against wood as he drives is fingers deep into her velvet walls. She blocks it all out, everything but his fingers, his mouth and his unrelenting hard-on - all silent, aching, tangible promises that after 15 long years they will finally extinguish the fire within.

 **TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

_Warning: Mild violence, sexual themes. Trigger warnings._

* * *

She came against his hand.

Hard.

Her tight walls closing around his fingers as the base of his palm pressed against her clit. His other hand closed firmly over her mouth as her strained climax came out in muffled cries. His hips were holding her against the door as his hand still moved slowly inside her, refusing to let her come down from the waves still pulsing through her pelvis as she continued to tighten around his fingers. She is breathing through her nose before he finally lifts his hand off her mouth and her lips part as she sucks in a weighty breath.

"Ugh, fuu- El," she lets out softly as her head falls back against the door. His jagged breath heats the crux of her neck as her entire body slumps against the wood of the door. He moves his lips in, pressing them into the ridge of her temple before leaving a warm kiss at her perspiring hairline.

"Jesus," he whispers above her ear. Her hand finds his upper arm and she is smoothing her palm across his bicep, urging him to slip out of her but he doesn't just yet. She can still feel herself pulsing around him, the tremors of her orgasm convulsing around his thick fingers.

"I don't want this to end," his mouth is against her ear, his voice dragging when he says it, the emotion thick within his throat and she knows his words extend well past the heat of this intimate moment. Her heart is hammering as his fingers continue to curl up inside her, languidly drawing in each and every inch of her. Her mouth parts, hands moving then from his forearm to his cheek and she is framing the side of his face tugging his damp lips towards hers.

She smoothes her lips softly against his before moving back and capturing his eye contact.

"It doesn't have to," she whispers before she presses her mouth firmly against his, drawing his lower lip between hers and sucking slowly. The room slows then, silence invading their moment as she kisses him intimately, her tongue dipping languidly into his mouth, her lips seeking out the heat of his mouth. He exhales into her kiss as the tip of her tongue swipes his, his groan getting trapped in her open mouth.

Her hand slips south, latching onto his belt buckle, attempting to tug the leather out one handed. His pelvis is still holding her against the wall, his fingers still buried inside her. The angle is off so instead she slips her hand down the front of his jeans, her fingers smoothing over his denim clad erection, her breath hitching against his mouth at his state of granite. He groans once more, unable to help himself from rocking into her palm, the thud of their bodies against the door echoing through the trailer, a preview of the noise they would create if they were to take this further.

Her hand slides back up, grasping his belt buckle once more, her lips nicking his jawline in the struggle as his body refuses to back up off her to give her the leverage. "El," she whispers throatily. "Please." She feels him swallow, his adam's apple bobbing and she counts the beats of hesitation swarming as her thumb swipes slowly back and forth over his forearm in reassurance. Slowly and reluctantly he slips his slick fingers out of her, the motion causing her to bite down on her lower lip as he gently slides them out.

She lets out the breath she is holding as his body backs up off her a little. She can feel his eyes on her as he plants his hand against the wall parallel to her head, his fingers still lined with her juices. Her heart is thumping wildly as she reaches out, gasping his belt, unlatching the leather and drawing it slowly through the metal buckle. She moves his body closer, drawing him towards her by the lip of his jeans. His chin bumps her forehead as she unzips him before sliding her hand downward into his briefs and directly across his hardness. His mouth parts against her temple and he groans, his sticky hand moving downward, grasping her hip and pressing them up against the wall as her palm encircles his cock. She feels his heavy breaths exhale into her hairline, his lips scraping across her forehead as his fingers sink into her hip, traces of pre come lining her fingers as she smoothes her thumb over the tip of his penis.

"Ugh," he bucks into her, the door rattling under their weight and his hand is slipping under her dress then, his thumb hooking into the side of her panties. She lets her body soften against his as he continues to drag on his cock, her breathy exhale a clear indication of where she wants this to go as her legs spread a little wider. He slips his hand beneath the lace of her backside as she continues to stroke his hardness and he squeezes her bare ass cheek, groaning into her ear, their breathy moans intermingling as he grinds their lower halves together.

"Chase!"

A hand pounds on the door behind them and her breath catches in her chest, the vibrations of the wood racking through every fibre of her body. Elliot stills against her and they both freeze in place. His wide eyes search hers in a panic, his lips parting in complete disbelief that this is happening.

They had just moaned in unison - _loudly._

"Chase? Open up!" The voice continues as does the pounding and there is urgency in his voice.

He lifts off her immediately, her hand slipping out of his pants and he is yanking her away from the door within seconds. She feels the shift, her feet tripping over her discarded high heels as he drags her hurriedly towards the mattress. His strong arms grasp her biceps moving her backwards, his strength back in full force, her feet unable to keep up with his steps.

Her ankles hit the edge of the bed and he shoves her backwards. Her back hits mattress and she bounces once, twice in the decent and suddenly he is on top of her. The wall of his chest presses into hers, her breath leaving her body, a noise of exertion escaping her as he grasps her wrists and pins them at shoulder height. She feels his hips moving roughly between her legs and her mind doesn't have time to catch up, all she feels is Lewis above her as the memories of her past slam into her.

"Scream," he rasps down at her.

Her heart hammers. She can't do this. Her breath is trapped in her throat, tears are budding, she can't for the life of her force anything out of her lungs.

" _Scream_!" he repeats more urgently this time shaking her body firmly.

 _One move, lights out._

Her eyes pinch closed. Act or not act she cannot have this version of her partner in her head. His chest is crushing her breath and suddenly his hand is moving closing over her mouth. She practically chokes as he blocks her breathing passage. She tries to yell in response, the sound getting muffled by his palm as tears start to spill openly down her face.

She hears the door busts open and a man with a gun is in the room in seconds, pointing the barrel directly at Elliot's head.

"I'm not done yet," she hears Elliot rasp violently and her heart pounds incessantly against his chest, his voice is much darker, much more sinister that she's ever heard before.

"You're done," the voice from above tells him and suddenly he is grabbing Elliot, pulling him backwards, sliding him off Olivia's body until he is yanked to his feet.

"Tony wants to see you."

Olivia watches the unfamiliar man press the barrel of the gun at the base of his throat before turning his attention down to Olivia. His eyes raking down her partially exposed body.

"And bring the girl."

* * *

The clicking of Elliot's boots fill the expanse of the warehouse as his fingers sink firmly into her upper arm. The pressure is enough to leave a mark but it's the least of her concerns as she spies Tony walking towards them.

' _Act petrified.'_ Elliot had told her in his earlier instructions but it seems there was no need, his performance in the trailer was enough to prove to her that this was all too frighteningly real.

She swallows as Tony's brazen eyes roam over her body, a feeling in the crux of her chest starting to pound as if things were about to take a turn for the worse. Tony's eyes move over her tear stained face, smudged mascara, her raw lips and her marked neck until they settle on the swells of her breasts where her bra is now partially exposed. She is shaking, trembling in fact - tears still silently spilling down her cheeks retracing the path of dried ones.

"Mmmhmm," Tony approves. "Looks like you put this one through the ringer." He licks his lips. "How was she?" A dark snarl coming over his features as he asks Elliot with a smile. "Or should I find out myself?"

Olivia's stomach turns, her heartbeat thumping into overdrive. She goes to step backward but Elliot's grip is firm, unrelenting retching her back to him.

"Not this one," Elliot says through gritted teeth, keeping her steady. But she hears it, the hint of fear in his tone, as if he knows this could be a real possibility if he doesn't play his cards right.

"Why? No good?" Tony scoffs.

"Very good," Elliot confirmed. "This bitch had some fight – made her scream for hours, but she's done, she's spent. Lets dump her tonight. Rich is bringing in the new shipment tomorrow, I wanna be fresh."

Chills run down her spine at Elliot's brutal delivery, his voice, his tone, the fluidity of his words, the way his fingers are still piercing into the flesh of her arm, all too frighteningly real. She tries to move again, just an inch away from him to create some space when he tugs her back towards him, her bare feet skidding against gritty cement.

"She's a cop," Tony begins as if Elliot should know better. "We have to dump her far - we wouldn't make it before daybreak," Tony presses. "We wait for morning. Besides, you say she's _spent_ but she's still standing - there's still some fuel left in her tank for me-" Tony starts to step forward.

"She's a _lieutenant_ ," Elliot presses cutting him off. "You don't think they have the whole taskforce looking for this bitch? As much as I appreciate the _gift_ Tone _,"_ Elliot reminds him, "she's a sitting target that we've held onto for too long. We dump her tonight."

Tony's eyes flit back and forth between Elliot's, a look of internal deliberation masking his face as he considers Elliot's case. She feels Elliot's grip on her forearm tighten as he waits in anticipation for his response.

"Fine," Tony rasps angrily in response. "Get the car."

 **TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

_To whom it may concern I haven't forgotten about this. Or Ripples. Or End Game. Or Sin. I love you all. x_

* * *

She's in the back seat of a dated, musty Camery, both of her hands are bound to the side door handle.

She is twisted into a position of immobility and she is starting to feel twinges of pain in her right shoulder from the angle she is positioned in. The night air whips at her sides through open slivers of windows and she bites down on her frozen lower lip pressing them together in the hopes that she can generate heat.

They've been driving for over two hours.

Tony is directly in front of her and Elliot is to his right in the front passenger seat. She moves her line of sight down to her purple fingers and begins rubbing them together to perpetuate warmth, her torn evening dress is no match to their winter apparel.

Minutes later Elliot's voice sounds through the vehicle for the first time since they left.

"Roll up the windows."

Tony eyes flick immediately to the review mirror before his eyes make their way over to Elliot.

"You concerned the bitch is cold?" he spits out.

Seconds pass.

"I'm concerned the bitch is going to scream." He responds firmly, motioning towards the bout of traffic they're about to hit as they approach the next town.

Tony exhales heavily, promptly winding up his window before glancing back at her in the rear view mirror.

"One sound and you're dead."

* * *

They pull up to a gas station.

It's the first time they have made a stop since they started driving and if she had to guess she would say it's bordering on 3 and half hours since they left the warehouse.

The gas station for the most part looks abandoned and she assumes that was why they chose it.

As Tony puts the car into park he glances over to Elliot as if to say - _you're in charge, don't screw up._

He is gone then, the car door slamming shut and her eyes flit instantly to the side mirror where she sees Tony insert the nozzle and begin to pump the gas. When it seems he is distracted her eyes slowly make their way over to Elliot. He is facing forward. Not a word. Not a sound. Not even a glance back in her direction.

Tony is next to her door, a plate of glass divides them and she can feel his eyes momentarily leeching on her bare legs as she continues to pump the gas. The windows are up but she still doesn't chance a word.

When the gas pump stops she jolts at the sound and it's seconds before Tony is walking towards the pay station. As she watches his form disappear into the store she turns back to Elliot and they lock eyes.

"Listen to me carefully," he whispers. "You've got 2 minutes."

Her heart starts to pummel when she sees him reach into his pocket and it's seconds before he is moving a small piece of metal into her bound hands. Her shaky fingers close hesitantly around the key.

"Unlock the cuffs," he tells her with all the seriousness he can muster. "Get out of the car, and run," his voice is low as his eyes move to the doors of the gas station.

"Elliot," she swallows, her eyes are fixed on his profile, begging for the slightest hint of eye contact to return to her. "Please don't do this," she whispers, her voice is practically trembling. "He will kill you, you know he will." She is practically begging him to reason with her.

"Oliv-"

"No," she cuts him off abruptly. "I'm not doing this. We're sticking to the original plan," she practically rasps.

She watches a mixture of frustration, anger and fear ripple across his face, the muscles in his jaw jumping feverishly in response to her blatant refusal. She can tell he knows his words will have little effect so it's seconds before he switches gears and he is removing his seatbelt.

Her heart hammers as he moves through the small space between the front seats, his wide hips pushing through the dividers. Her breath catches when he grasps her arm, his fingers curling around her bound wrist as he pries opens her fingers with his other.

"Don-t," she panics attempting to close her hand against his force but his strength is no match to hers. "Elliot wait-"

She is trembling but he says nothing, just grabs they key and slots it into the cuffs until he is yanking them off.

He wastes no time then, his large hands are grasping her forearms dragging her down the seat of the car. He is reaching for the door handle on his side, intending to open it and but images of him shot dead on 6am news are at the forefront so she twists her body suddenly until her foot slams into his wrist before he can get it open.

He calls out, grabbing the back of her bent knee, his fingers curling under gripping her firmly as he attempts to yank her down the seat. Her dress pools up her thighs as she falls onto her back. He tries to drag her further but she acts as a dead weight, gripping onto the door handle behind her and suddenly it's a tug of war as she kicks at any limb she can find.

He ceases her calf muscle firmly, digging in his fingers in an attempt to stop her from kicking him but when she doesn't let up he switches gears, moving on top of her, a thigh knocking her legs apart as he wedges his hips between her legs. Her breath leaves her chest as he drops his entire body weight onto her and she calls out.

He cuts her off with a hand to her mouth and her heart pounds in response. She arches in his grasp, her legs sliding against his outer calves, her murmurs getting stifled by his hand. Her mouth parts, her teeth ready to clamp over his finger to cause pain, but he stops her suddenly.

"Don't," he whispers down at her frantically and then she realises why. "He's coming."

She hears it then – the car door ripping open.

"The _fuck_?" Tony's loud voice booms through the car and that's when she feels it - Elliot's large body getting dragged off of hers before he is shoved forcibly onto the cement.

 **TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

_A huge, big, massive thank you to Nikki, who made my Christmas with the most incredible trailer for this fic._ _You can view it on YouTube under:_ ** _SVU || Dust and Bone Trailer (2016) by_ Nitty_Skitty**

 _And if it weren't for this delightful motivation this chapter probably wouldn't have come until the New Year!_

 _Here is your Christmas present - just in the Nik of time hahahah see what I did there?_

 _X_

* * *

She hears tussling, bodies colliding, a struggle of limbs as she scrambles into a sitting position. She looks up to see Elliot getting slammed into the car door and she doesn't have enough traction so she falls back from the force.

"Get in the car," she hears Tony rasp.

She is searching avidly for anything resembling a weapon but it's too late, the car doors are opening and both Tony and Elliot are piling into the front seat. Her fingers graze the car floor as they frantically curl around the metal cuffs. She sits up quickly, slipping a bracelet over her wrist and the other into the car door but she doesn't lock them closed, just shields them from view.

Tony hits the accelerator before she has a chance to steady herself and she grips onto the door handle, her back thudding into the seat behind her from the force. They gain a few miles down the road before the tension-filled silence is broken.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Tony whispers under his breath.

A few beats pass before Elliot responds.

"The bitch was giving me lip," Elliot rasps back as if he were waiting for this.

"You know better - in a public place.." Tony shoots a look towards Elliot. "Security cameras, witnesses - the _fuck_ Chase," he rasps. "You do realise what this means.."

Elliot gives Tony a sideways glance.

"We're going further for the dump," Tony spits.

She watches the expression on Elliot's face register this new piece of information.

"Tony.." Elliot counters with a heavy exhale. "Listen.. she wouldn't have been in view, let's just stick to the original plan - you know what happens when we go off script."

She can tell by the timbre of Elliot's voice that he's trying to placate the scenario but when no response comes from Tony the air in the car grows ripe with tension.

Her eyes move from Elliot's profile to the back of Tony's seat and that's when she feels the car begin to steadily accelerate. Her fingers grip onto the door handle and she sucks in a weighted breath, knowing the air in the car has changed considerably.

"We drive to Dayton tonight," Tony mutters under his breath.

Olivia strains her ears to overhear what is being said.

 _Did he just say Dayton?_ _Dayton, Ohio?_

"I know a guy, we sleep one night and we're back on the road first thing."

Her breath is staring to quicken, her pulse thrumming in response because that's another four hours on the road - tonight alone.

"Ton-" Elliot tries.

"Then tomorrow," Tony cuts Elliot off with a rasp, "we head further south for the dump - Louisville or Lexington maybe."

"And what.." Elliot scoffs. "We just take her in with us tonight? Introduce her to your friend then cuff her to a radiator all night?" He rasps. "Your friends not gonna talk?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Tony rumbles before turning towards Elliot. "We put a bullet in her head before the nights out - she can sleep it off in the trunk. Then you won't have to worry about her giving you anymore lip."

Olivia's pulse starts to thrum as she watches Elliot lock eyes with Tony. She knows it then, Tony's waiting for a reaction from him, almost as if he were testing the waters to see how he would react to the prospect of her imminent death. Suddenly the power between them shifts and a slickness returns to the base of her palms.

Elliot finally turns away from Tony and it hits.

All bets are now suddenly off.

The plan has changed, everything they had discussed in the trailer is now redundant. She isn't going to be choked to death and buried alive in a shallow grave to eventually escape, she is going to be shot - point-blank, execution style before the night is even out.

"If we didn't have such a long ride ahead of us, I'd shoot the bitch right now," Tony mutters his fingers curling earnestly over the leather of the wheel, "but we don't need the smell of her rotting flesh permeating through the trunk all night do we?" He rasps towards the darkened road ahead.

Olivia's eyes are trained on Elliot, he looks ghost white now and her eyes are starting to prick with tears because she can feel it, he is shutting down - losing hope, he knows their options are heavily limited and any chance of communicating new plans with her are shot to hell. She watches red heat start to creep up Elliot's neck and she's seen this version of him before, the one that gives up, the one that gives in, the one that realizes he has nothing left in the tank and physically and emotionally folds his cards well before the game is over. It was the same look she saw after Jenna - the same one that's haunted her ever since.

She knows it's up her to her now, she has just been given an expiration date – _four hours,_ and she can either spend it praying for her salvation or she can shock the system, go in half-cocked, rogue - literally wipe that look of surrender clean off Elliot's face because she'll be damned if she has come this far just to come this far.

Her heart is hammering in her chest because she knows she is about to act and it's the same bout of adrenaline that was pumping as that iron rod plummeted down on Lewis over and over again – it's the same surge she felt as she clicked that revolver against her temple once, twice, three times. It's the same cortisone-fuelled state she would wake up in nightmare upon nightmare, dripping from his sweat, still feeling his breath, his hands, his skin marking hers as his memory continues to torment her from the grave.

She sucks in a jagged breath, a tear slipping down her cheek, her throat constricting with phlegm as she shakily removes the cuff from the car handle before locking it around her other wrist. The car beneath her is doing 110 down a deserted highway and she is trembling as she shuffles forward until her knees touch the back of the seat. She is watching Tony's steady gaze in the rear-view mirror, her heart hammering in her ears but it's the moment his eyes lift up to meet hers that she flicks like a switch.

Her bound hands fly over the back of his head yanking his neck violently backwards. Tony's hands fly off the wheel immediately grasping her hold as the metal chain restricts his throat. The screech of breaks and loss of the steering wheel causes the car to skid wildly off it's axis and she can hear Elliot yelling. She tugs his neck tighter causing Tony to gag, spit and choke against her force. The tyres hiss and her wrists burn against the metal force, her stomach churns in response because all she sees is Lewis now. She calls out against the spinning car, her cries getting muffled by upholstery as she sobs into the seat because it's nearly over, she thinks - _no more, no more, no more, no more_ \- after this there will be no more and it's like she's spouting a mantra of refuge and surrender.

The car glides as if it's on ice now and she can still feel clawing on her wrists but she just gnaws down on her lower lip with a muffled cry waiting for final impact. She hears distant cries of Elliot calling out to stop but she's unable release Lewis, unable to allow a single breath to fill his lungs and when the car finally comes to a weighted stop it's three painstakingly, silent beats before blinding headlights and a blaring car horn sends them careening full force into blackness.

 **TBC**

 _Merry Christmas._


	12. Chapter 12

_PMS made me do it. More soon._

* * *

She comes to.

She can taste metal.

Warm, salty liquid trickling down her nose and over her lips.

She begins to peal her face away from the seat in front of her, her nose a panging throb that causes a pool of bile to permeate in her stomach.

Her tongue smoothes over the front of her teeth, checking to see she hasn't broken any but they remain intact.

She moves her jaw to the side with a painful crack and she chokes suddenly swallowing a bout of saliva and blood. _Jesus Christ._

She must have broken her nose or at least given it a solid thrashing because the violent pang runs from the bridge to her forehead.

She lets out a shaky breath, blood lining her gums as she attempts to lift her bound arms upwards but a jolt of pain rips through her left shoulder.

She squeezes her eyes shut, her teeth clamping down on her lower lip as attempts to muffle the pain through gritted teeth. She feels no signs of life around the throat beneath her hands and she wants to think it's a good sign but she can't escape the reality that there's an equally deafening silence coming from the passenger seat.

"Elliot-t," Her croaky voice tries but she barely gets it out and there is no response _._

She braces herself before she attempts to lift her hands once more but she barely makes it an inch before she is brought back down with the same harrowing pain. She leans forward then, her forehead dropping onto the seat as her heavy cries get muffled by upholstery.

She takes a few jagged breaths, she hears liquid dripping, the distant expelling of tyre air and the clinking of their engine as it slowly gives up.

She tries to call out to Elliot again but a slick film of acidic bile lodges in her throat causing her to choke once more. She spits up in front of her, the warm residue spilling down her chin as shooting pain continues to throb relentlessly through her left shoulder.

She must have broken it she thinks, because any sudden movement feels like a goddamned knife through her flesh.

A few beats pass before she finally manages to peal her eyes open, her eyelids are sticky and damp from tears and fumes.

She smells gasoline, burnt rubber and the slickness of sweat but it's the gas fumes she is concerned about as she tries to gauge whether anything has been caught alight.

She hears movement in the distance and she slowly starts to twist her head towards the sound.

Her hazy vision trails across broken glass, twisted metal and that's when she sees it - the stark outline of Elliot's profile, his head slunk heavily to one side, a trail of blood streaking down his neck and the startling carnage of a car mangled into his door.

 _What the hell has she done?_

* * *

 **TBC**


	13. Chapter 13

_Thank you for being here._

* * *

Her eyes slowly peal open and there are hands tugging her bound wrists upwards. A pang of immense pain shoots through her left shoulder at the motion and she lets out a yell. She can't see who it is through the fog, the pain, the haze.

"Stop-pp," her voice cracks against the word as warm tears stream violently down her cheeks. She breathes out through the throbbing pain, choking on her breath before she spits blood and salvia onto the upholstery in front of her.

"The key," she rasps through a strained breath. "Get the key."

She can't see what is happening beside her, that's when her eyes move to across to the empty passenger seat and she realizes Elliot is no longer wedged between metal.

She freezes, waiting for confirmation that it's him beside her.

"Where is it?" Elliot voice cracks and a wealth of assurance floods through her chest at the confirmation he's alive and upright and moments from getting her out of this godforsaken car.

She can feel him patting down the seat behind her.

"My shoulder," she whispers. "I think it's broken, El I can't move it," she panics, trying to steady her breath as she breathes into the car seat. "I can't lift my arms, please get the key."

"Where is it?" he rasps again.

And that's when it hits her and she closes her eyes.

There is silence beside her as she takes a few short breaths.

"Olivia?"

"On me," she breathes out slowly.

"On you where?" he whispers.

She lets out a breath silently berating herself for being so stupid, there is no _fucking_ way he can reach the key now.

"It's in my," she starts. "Jesus it's in my bra." She moves forward, her forehead dropping onto the seat in front of her that's when a slice of pain rips through the bridge of her nose. She calls out in agony, heavy breaths expelling, the pain reverberating as a fresh bout of warm liquid spills out of her nose.

"God Elliot please," she whispers through sobs. "Just get me out of here."

He moves forward then, gripping the side of her torso trying to figure out how on earth to get the key when her chest is flush up against the seat.

"Jesus, Liv are you serious. How am I supposed to.."

"Go over my shoulder," she chokes out, petrified of knocking her nose again. "And push your hand down, it's in the middle.."

He moves forward, reaching over her shoulder, awkwardly trying to angle his hand to wedge his hand between her throat and the seat.

"Move back," he tells her and she tries but the pain in her shoulder is too much.

"Ugh-h," she snaps back. "I can't," she closes her eyes, tears starting to formulate once more. "El please I can't move, just push your hand down."

He moves in closer, flattening his hand against her upper chest and moving it downward, his knuckles scraping down the seat in front of him until he is dipping into the cleavage of her torn dress.

"I can't get any further," he rasps as his hand gets wedged against her chest. "Why did you-"

"I don't know," she cries out, having not thought it through.

He sucks in a breath, moving forward, pushing his hand down in one fluid moment. She makes a sound as his hand slips awkwardly between her breasts but she is overtaken by the pain radiating from her shoulder.

"Can you feel it?" she calls out, biting down on her lip trying to counteract the pain in her shoulder.

She takes shallow breaths through her nose to avoid pushing her chest into the seat and when he finally ceases the key he is quickly moving, opening the drivers door, grasping her wrists from the other side and unlocking the cuffs.

He frees her from the metal and she tries to slowly move on her own accord but the pain is too much. She bites her lip, trying to move her left arm but her muffled cry gets trapped in her ears, it feels like a knife slicing into her joint. His hands are on waist and he is moving her out of the broken car, leading her backwards but he is pulling her too fast.

Her bare feet hits gravelled pavement and when he turns her around his eyes flinch at the state of her bloodied nose before they move across to her shoulder.

He moves forward to inspect the swollen joint, tiny shards of glass are nicking at her feet as nausea starts to permeate in her stomach.

"Oh God," she whispers, "I'm gonna be sick." She falls forward, trying to push him away, a bout of pain induced nausea churning but he doesn't move far, his large arms holding her steadily by the waist as she bends over.

"Liv," he whispers down at her bowed head as she takes jagged breaths trying not to be sick. "You gotta stand up okay, your shoulder's dislocated."

She hears the words but they don't completely register until is moving her back up.

"You need to hold real still okay," he whispers from behind and that's when she feels his hands on her bicep gripping her firmly.

She swallows. "What are you-"

"Don't move okay," he demands and when she feels him lining up her arm and shoulder she starts to panic.

"Elliot wait," she calls out when she realizes what he's about to do, trying to move any which way but he doesn't let go, one hand on her upper arm, the other on her shoulderblade.

She tries to move him off her but he has twisted her joint back into the socket before she get the chance. Her howl echoes down the darkened street and she falls forward in harrowing pain. He catches her against around the waist once more, but she slips suddenly out of his grip hitting the cement with a hard slap.

"Jesus," he calls out as he tries to lift her from the ground once more. Tears are streaming now, from the pain, from the cement - from the goddamn depth of despair that she is feeling right now as her palms and knees press into broken glass.

"Take your weight off the shoulder," he calls down to her. But she's still reeling from the shock of the pain that had just ripped through her ligament and the unrelenting aftermath of cement.

He has her moving back up to her feet again, her back falling unsteadily against the wall of his chest. He holds her firmly against him this time and she is shaking from the cold. "I'm sorry, I had to do it," he is breathing erratically from behind as his words expel into her ear. "The longer we left it."

Tears fall helplessly down her face as her throat constricts and she presses her eyes closed, trying desperately to ride out the waves of pain that are rendering her helpless.

He begins to move her around, holding onto her shaking body as he turns her full circle moving her to rest against the car but she refuses to open her eyes because she cannot face this, face him. She feels his hands cup her cheek, gently tilting her head upward and then slowly to side to side as if inspecting the damage to her nose.

She hears him whisper his concerns, warm tears spilling once more as she his thumb lightly brushes the ridge of her nose.

She flinches, her breathing unsteady, a muffled sound escaping and when her damp eyes finally open and meet with his, that's when she sees it.

The stark devastation caused tonight and the irreversible damage within.

* * *

 **TBC**

 _Happy Birthday K._


	14. Chapter 14

_Just when you thought it was all over._

* * *

They stay like that. Staring, unblinking, unable to move from the place that they're in. His large hands are still coating her cheeks as tears stream quietly down her face. The chill of the night begins to chafe her throat with each inhale and after a few stern moments between them she feels something start to culminate in the depths of her chest.

Something is off.

"I need you to listen to me carefully," Elliot begins and it's immediate, her heart begins to pang with imminent concern. She knows this tone. She's heard it countless times in victim interviews, hostage negotiations and life threatening situations.

"Tony is dead," he states and she takes a couple of breaths before her eyebrows furrow in response. She doesn't understand why he is giving her information she already knows, that she had already processed. Tony's limp neck and sagged head lodged between a car seat and her wrists was confirmation enough for her.

"Okay-" she begins confused.

"The other car," he tells her slowly, cutting her off.

That's when it hits her like a wall. There had been another car. This whole time. Another vehicle. Another driver. Sandwiched against theirs. Another persons life, or worse - multiple _lives_. But all she had been focused on was his.

She starts to move then, as if in autopilot. She can help it, there is still time but as she begins to round the car he stops her in her tracks, grasping her upper arm gently and pulling her back around to face him.

"Don't," he whispers, and it's in that one word, that one look he is giving her that she falls forward, doubling over, a howl emanating down the cold dark street. She chokes on her breath and he bends down with her, doing his best to keep her upright, off the shards of glass and bitchumen that she seems intent on wedging into her hands, knees and feet.

But she wants to look. She needs to assess the damage. She needs to know if there is something she can do. She tries to scramble to her feet, but he's blocking her, shielding her, holding her, keeping her confined from the carnage. She starts to breathe rapidly and it's bordering on hyperventilation, her fingers are digging into his forearm as he holds her, tears bucketing down as she struggles to hold herself up.

"How m-many?" she stammers, and her throat is catching because if it's anymore than one she is going to break right here and now. But she doesn't actually want a number. One is too many. She doesn't want any part of this to be real. There's still a panging ache in her shoulder as he holds her this way but it doesn't even begin to match the ache in her heart. From this – all of it.

She has _killed_. People have died tonight because of her.

He gently cups her shoulder, bringing her back against the car, trying to hold her steady while he says it.

"Listen to me," he repeats as he lines up their faces once more. "I doesn't matter how many okay - look at me," he shakes her gently until he obtains her full eye contact then he waits a few beats before he says it. "There is nothing we can do."

 _Nothing we can do.._

'We' as if it were a mutual decision they made to collect an innocent Sedan on this frozen Saturday morning.

She isn't looking at him anymore, she won't allow herself to watch the judgment unfold in his eyes because it will only mirror her own.

"Right now," he whispers. "You gotta pull it together, because this isn't over."

She can't help it then, her damp eyes move back to his. What the hell does he mean by that? This isn't over. Her mouth parts, she's about to question him when streaks of headlights round the bend they've been standing on and she sees a car approaching the scene.

Then she feels it, another shift in Elliot's demeanor.

"Whatever happens," he rasps hurriedly, as if they're running out of time. "Tell me that you trust.. that I'll protect you." Her eyes are trained on the vehicle approaching and they don't move back to his until he shakes her again.

"Say it," he whispers.

She has no way of knowing who is in the car that's just pulled up or what exactly is to come but the words fall hesitantly and achingly out of her mouth.

"I trust you," she whispers.

And with that he lets go of his grip and moves quickly towards the trunk of their car.

 **TBC**


	15. Chapter 15

_I'm sorry this update could fit on a napkin but there was a poll on twitter so.._

 _I dedicate this to Nikki in on honour of videos & signs *love heart emoji*_

 _And happy total solar eclipse to you all. I'll post more during the next one ;) *shooting star_ _emoji_ _*_

* * *

Olivia watches the car in front of them come to a complete stop.

Her eyes dart from Elliot to the couple who are now racing from their vehicle and towards the scene, their doors are left open - the ignition still running.

She knows Elliot just pulled a gun from the trunk of their beaten up Camry and has tucked it into the back of his jeans.

"What happened?" the man calls out. "Is everyone okay?"

It registers then, these people aren't connected, they're just witnesses to the scene of the crash but confusion is swarming as to why Elliot had gone for his gun.

"No," Elliot calls out, his voice low and the way that he has said it makes her heart thrum once more with anxiety.

"Has anyone called an ambulance?" the woman yells, rushing over to Olivia while the man heads towards the beaten up cars.

"Oh my god," the flushed, out of breath brunette gasps when she sees the extent of Olivia's injuries and bloodied nose. "Are you okay?" the woman starts to move closer to her.

"She's fine," Elliot steps forward with a hand out, almost as if he doesn't want her to touch her. "But the others.." Elliot motions to the wreckage with his eyes.

The woman stills, her focus still on Olivia almost as if she needs confirmation from her directly but when her eyes move back to Elliot's something flickers in the woman's expression before she quickly moves to join her husband.

That's when Olivia feels it. A cold, hard, urgent hand around her wrist as he begins to tug her closer to the couples car. The doors are still open, the ignition is still on and he is practically pulling her towards the passenger door. She stumbles forward and when she realises what he is intending she stops short, his body incidentally ramming into her back with the motion.

"What the hell Elliot?" she whispers through gritted teeth but his body is unmoving. She has nowhere to go.

"Get - in," he whispers behind her ear and she doesn't understand. She doesn't comprehend why he isn't just calling an ambulance, the cops – anyone.

 _Trust that I'll protect you Olivia._ Her chest begins to pound, her eyes pricking with tears, that's all she can bank on right now to _'trust'_ that he knows what the hell he is doing. He grabs her again, shocking her back to reality and suddenly that cold stoic man from the trailer is back in full force with no qualms adding grand theft auto to his jacket.

She hears car doors opening in the distance and sounds of dismay as the couple register the state of the bodies in the car. She feels him grasp the gun from the back of his pants and force her further towards the open door.

She doesn't feel the barrel of the gun press into her back but it might as well have as he forcibly moves her forward. She thinks about the lives of this couple and how easily things could turn south if they're caught so she gives in at that moment, her whole body shaking with adrenaline as her blood soaked dress makes contact with upholstery.

She closes her eyes, her heart thudding a mile, knowing that at any moment this could be all over for them and when she opens them again she sees Elliot retching the gearshift into drive and slamming the accelerator to the floor with one mighty screech.

 **TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

_OK so a few things before we get started:_

 _Thank you SO much for your support regarding this fic and all the kind words, reviews, follows and favs. You've been incredibly patient and I'm still shocked that you're here for this insane ride years later. I do hope that you see it out till the end with me not that it's anywhere near finished.._

 _I'm kind of buttering you up because this next chapter… well lets just say it's going to be rough but please trust that I won't let you down (there is more to this story than meets the eye) which will come to fruition soon._

 _I realise Olivia has just had her shoulder dislocated and there would be a whole medical scenario required coupled with the fact that it would potentially take weeks to heal BUT for the sake of this story and my laziness (side eyes) lets just imagine it's one of those really clean dislocations where you can just pop it right back in and Bob's your uncle. They do exist, I promise. I looked them up on youtube. All they need are some heavyset painkillers and some ice for the swelling.. if it ever gets to that (more side eyes)._

Ok lets do this.

X

* * *

Her fingers grip the door handle as she feels him accelerate towards a sharp corner and all she can think is fuck-fuck-fuck.

As they near the bend and she presses her eyes closed. She feels him take the corner too sharply, two wheels practically lift to the side as he rounds the bend and she thinks - _they're gonna flip, they're gonna flip._ She wants to scream from the overbearing sensation and then she loses it, crying his name out but he's correcting the wheel before it tips, gaining enough leverage to straighten up mid bend before the car comes thudding back down. She opens her eyes just in time to see them clear the highway barrier, her fingers clutching to anything she can secure, her heartbeat hammering in her chest.

 _Jesus Christ._

She half expects to hear sirens in the distance at the speed they are going but it's only the roaring engine that is fills her ears.

She wants to demand he _slow down_ but the words remain trapped in her throat, her only solace is the pain in her shoulder is now stifled by unrelenting bouts of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her mind is circling wildly as to why. Why are they driving in a stolen vehicle? Where are they driving at top speed? Why isn't he talking, explaining, comforting or reasoning with her? Why is that deathly stoic silent stranger from the trailer back and why does she feel like this is only just the beginning..

He takes another corner, this time over shooting it and her stomach drops out from under her because this is it. She feels her body slide in her seat, her fingers clinging to the doorframe and her seatbelt as she braces herself. Her eyes pinch closed and it feels like slow motion, the wheels screeching, her cries drowned out by the tyres. Her seatbelt locks violently against her chest. She expects impact, she expects an airbag to the face, and shards of shattered glass to rip into her skin but the wheels unlock just in time for him to straighten up and it's just the side panel that produces a shrill tone as the metal of his door scrapes against the highway barrier.

She watches sparks of heat ignite from the contact and she's going to be sick.

"Stop the car," she whispers as her fingers dig into upholstery. The side of the car is still getting torn to shreds, her seatbelt still cutting into her neck. She sinks back into her seat, tugging the material away from her throat, trying to gasp for a breath.

"Slow the hell down Elliot," she practically chokes as moisture pools at the corners of her eyes. "For Godsake please," her voice cracks part way as she pleads but he doesn't respond. Then she can feel it, another corner approaching and when she sees the bend something flicks inside and she moves up, launching for his forearm, connecting with the terse muscle that's clenching the gear stick.

She cannot face another corner, she's going to be sick - at any moment she is going to hurl in this car and both her and Elliot are going to be wearing it. "Pull over goddamn it!" She rasps as her fingernails dig into his flesh as she practically pierces skin.

"Fuck!" he calls out, trying to shake off her hand but he's in the midst of changing gears so he can't let go. She digs in deeper and his hand slips off whacking her firmly before he regains control of the gearshift. "You're gonna get us killed," he barks at her.

But she doesn't stop, her hand is back on his wrist, fingers biting in deep until he grasps her wrist violently and twists it back without warning.

"Ughhh," she screams out in agony, snatching her hand back, clutching it against her chest, her mouth parted in shock. "You son of a bitch," she whispers at him in complete disbelief, her mind reeling at the pain he had just inflicted.

She watches as he takes the next corner and her eyes narrow in fury. _These windy will be the death of her._

She makes a snap decision, instead going straight for the gun he's left wedged in the console. She brings it up, her hands shaking at just what she intends to do. When he sees it out of the corner of his eyes he does a double take but with his hands on the wheel going full speed he can't do a thing about it.

"Are you fucking crazy?" he rasps loudly. "Put it down Olivia."

"Pull over," she rasps sternly, holding her breath. Her voice has dropped a full octave, suddenly she's in control now.

 _You wanna be in control for a while baby_.

She hears Lewis' voice and flinches at the memory, her throat starting to close over as the fumes of the car take her right back to the trunk.

 _Ain't we got fun._

"Pull the goddamn car over," she chokes before she pulls back the safety.

But he isn't listening, he isn't taking her seriously, he doesn't know who he's up against anymore.

"I swear to God Elliot," she seethes.

"You're not going to shoot me," he spits back, as if the concept were moronic.

 _You don't have it in you._

She closes her eyes, taking a breath, Lewis' voice – his torment, is determined to haunt her indefinitely. The anger pulsating through her veins is overtaking until she lifts the gun, holding it a good distance from his head until she's guaranteed to miss him before she determinedly pulls the trigger.

The gunshot rips through the car in seconds, glass from the window shattering to pieces, showering down on Elliot. He slams his foot down on the break, calling out in shock as the car careens uneasily across the road rotating a half circle as if they'd just hit ice. The car breaks finally lock into place as they come to a complete stop in the opposite direction.

Her head thuds back against he car seat as the steam from their tyres rise around them and she can finally breathe again.

She is snapped back into reality. What the hell did she just do? She is shaking. She could have killed him for the second time tonight. She could have killed them both. Her mouth is dry, the bile still permeating in her stomach, she really is going to be sick. She needs to get out, out of this car. She's disoriented, still trying to catch her breath, her fingers are pawing at the doorhandle, trying to unsuccessful open it when she hears him rip off his seatbelt and suddenly he is launching for the gun.

She moves it behind her hip instinctively with a yell, wedging it into the seat but he doesn't waste time, he is grabbing her elbow trying to bring her arm back around but she's resisting him. He moves in further, his body knocking into her sore shoulder and she calls out in pain. She tries to twist herself away from him until suddenly she is flat up against the passenger window. Their eyes meet, he is livid - the gun is behind her she can tell and he isn't going to take no for an answer.

"Olivia - the fuck," he raps at her. "Give me the goddamn gun."

She swallows. She's bent herself in a position that gives him no option but to press her firmly into the window as he reaches for it. She cries out in pain once more trying to push back against his weight but her strength is futile. She winces as he reaches behind her and snatches the gun.

"Screw you," she spits as he lifts his weight off her, her cut fingers aching as she attempts avoid more glass that has been shattered across her seat.

He moves back to his seat, gun in hand and he's shaking his head at her in absolute disbelief at what she just did.

Her chest is heaving, but she is glaring right back at him with equal detest.

That's when his eyes narrow.

"Get out of the car," he rasps.

She narrows his eyes back at him. "No."

"Now," he repeats, only this time he isn't waiting for her, he is out of his door in seconds, slamming it shut and moving around to her side.

Her heart beat thrums with adrenaline at just what he intends to do. She whips around quickly slamming the car lock down with both hands.

He tries to open the door a few times to no avail. He goes for the back seat but she is too fast, slamming that door lock down too. Their eyes meet through the frosted glass, her heart hammering at the feeling that she's being hunted. _Again._

 _Ain't we got fun._

"You've got 5 seconds Olivia," he barks and she can barely hear him through the window.

"One.. two…"

He begins to count down and she cannot believe her eyes when she sees him start to raise the gun.

"Three.. four…"

But all she can think is, _he's not going to shoot her, he's not going to shoot her, he's not going to shoot._

Those are her last words before thousands of glass shards shatter down around her as she covers her head.

 _Five._

 **TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

_Copious_ _amounts of Malibu + social cat + NYC energy + no hangover = this update._

* * *

She doesn't feel the glass nick her skin as it rains down on her, maybe she managed to avoid it or maybe she is too numb to feel it. She does however hear him unlock the door and then his hands are on her, moving her out of the car.

She pinches her eyes closed, no part of her is able to believe that this is actually her partner dragging her out onto the darkened street. She goes with his pull because she knows resistance will only cause more damage to her shoulder. He lifts her completely, her feet barely touching the glass-covered pavement before her back is slipping haphazardly against the backseat with a sideways thud.

He drags the seatbelt over her chest and clicks it into place with a strained exhale. As he moves in close she can smell sweat, musk and fumes and then she feels something on her, a dampness on the material of her dress just above her abdomen. Her hands move over it and when she inspects her fingers she realises it's blood.

"You know I don't want to do this," he rasps down at her and that's when she sees the familiar shine of metal bracelets in his hands. He must have taken the cuffs from Tony's car but she's too busy inspecting the blood to acknowledge what he is insinuating.

"Tell me I don't have to do this," he whispers down at her, his voice strained. He pauses then, he wants her to say something, anything that will stop him from taking away more of her freedom than he already has.

But she doesn't react. She doesn't resist. She is done resisting. The man in front of her is not her partner but she knows he isn't quite ready to hammer that final nail into their coffin so she does it for him. Her eyes move up to his, empty as they come, capturing those unfamiliar blues before she says it.

"Do it," she spits, her voice baseless. Maybe she's so used to the pain that it's now become tolerable, expected - familiar. More familiar than him.

He studies her, caught off guard by her answer but equally concerned that every minute they stand here is a moment closer to danger.

"I _asked_ you to trust me," he rasps, almost angry with her that she didn't.

 _'I don't.'_ She wants to spit back but although the words never leave her mouth it would appear they didn't have to. His eyes narrow at her as if he has lost all hope. He tosses the metal cuffs to the side and they bounce off the leather seat and onto the floor. She continues to stare absently at him until he slams the car door with a thud and moves around to the drivers seat, slamming it shut with a similar vigour.

He turns the engine once more before he takes a deep breath, the air settling around them before his eyes flit to the rearview mirror and lock with hers.

"Kill us both Olivia," he tells her bitterly. "I don't care," he rasps before putting the car into gear.

"We're both dead anyway."

* * *

She wakes up with a start.

She doesn't know if she had lost consciousness or if she had just fallen asleep.

Elliot is no longer in the drivers seat and they're parked in front of a battered motel room door marked 124.

She starts to sit up, crusty dried blood staining her dress, marking her hand – confusion still present as to where it has come from. She spies a male patron exiting one of the rooms to her left. He's dressed in tattered clothing, no shoes and is stumbling towards the carpark. That's when she see's Elliot frame move through the lobby doors passing the drunken man as he heads towards their vehicle with something in his hands.

He opens the car door on her side. "Let's go," he whispers, holding the door open for her as her vacant eyes stare up at him. "I got us a room," he explains.

She feels like she's woken up in a groggy daze, she's dehydrated, nauseous and concerned about their surroundings.

She spies a woman in ripped stockings and tarnished heels stalking past their car towards the man in tattered clothing. She tries to turn around to peer out the backseat without angering her shoulder. She sees no highway in sight or even a road for that matter, it would seem he has driven them into the outskirts of a small, unfamiliar town to a motel full of prostitutes and drug dealers.

"Where are we?" Her groggy voice questions, unsure if it's entirely safe to exit the vehicle. She doesn't even know what state they are let alone town at this point.

"Safer than we were on the road," he tells her, his expression marred with impatience at her lack of movement.

She starts to slowly sit up, flinching as her cut-up feet drag against carpeted floor. When she finally moves out of the vehicle the moment her bare feet touch asphalt he wastes no time ushering her towards their room.

She watches him insert the key and when she steps forward into darkness their room feels dark and unsettling. Her nose twitches under the stark smells of cigarettes and mothballs and when he turns on the light the first thing she sees is a small suitcase on the bed, a larger one on the floor, a lone bottle of vodka and a drugstore paper bag.

Her heart starts to thrum when she hears Elliot deadbolt the door behind her.

"Is someone here?" Her throat is already congested from the cigarette stench, her mind swirling in a cloud of confusion as she tries to back up, her shoulder knocking into his side.

 _Did Elliot already enter this room while she was asleep and accumulate this mass of products? Or did they belong to someone else?_

He steps forward, his eyes scanning over her dishevelled exterior until they settle on her face.

"You should shower," he tells her slowly, his voice low, his tone nononsense. "Warm up - get clean."

He then moves towards the first suitcase, clicking open each buckle until he is pulling out a woman's t-shirt, sweat pants, underwear and a hoodie. He holds the pile out to her but she doesn't take it.

"Put these on and when you're done I'll check out your shoulder."

She looks down at the fresh clothes in her hands before her eyes return to the bottle of vodka resting beside the suitcase.

She tries not to draw parallels with Lewis but it's too late her mind is going there, her stomach already turning as she recalls the rocket fuel he made her consume that night. She turns away from the bottle of liquor, her hands starting to tremble. He can see she is notably effected by the sight so he moves forward, grasping her forearm gently and turning her around to face him. He waits until he gains her full eye contact before he speaks.

"Disinfectant Olivia," he tells her slowly his eyes moving from one eye to another. "For your cuts."

She swallows. She has questions. So many questions about why they are here, what will happen to them and why he hasn't even mentioned his handlers let alone called them but her exhaustion and the sudden desire for a warm shower starts to win out.

Without another word she takes the stack of clothes and moves towards the bathroom door, closing it slowly behind her with a click before locking it from the inside. When she lets go of the handle she can feel her hands trembling in full force as she realises for the first time that evening that she is finally alone. She's still on guard but for the first time she feels like she can breathe again.

She moves towards the sink intent on washing her grimy hands but the moment she catches her reflection she stills. Dark eye makeup smudging the rims of her eyes, dirt and grime mark her skin – bruises, hickeys and trails of light scratches cover her neck while dried blood pools beneath her nose. She sees Elliot's hands all over her, marking her, bruising her, his mouth biting into flesh – fingernails digging into her skin. As she moves closer, inspecting her body in the reflection the polarities from Lewis are unmistakable.

She sets down the clothes softly and can't seem to still her trembling hands. It's as if the whole night has caught up to her in that one moment. Her empty hands make contact with the ceramic counter as she tries to steady herself, her eyes boring holes into her own reflection.

 _Just shower._ She tells herself. _One step at a time._ _Don't think about it right now, just get under the spray._

Her eyes move downward taking in the tattered, ripped strap of her dress that now hangs limply down her side, a large portion of her stained lace bra exposed. She slides the remainder of the material down her breast one handed, sucking in a breath as it scrapes across her bruised ribs.

She winces, she knows her left shoulder won't accommodate unzipping it from behind so she just tugs it firmly down her body once - twice, retching it downward in small bursts until she hears it rip as it finally starts to slip down her torso.

"Ugh," she winches as it hitches on a tender part of waist where Elliot had grabbed her but she continues through it, yanking it downward one handed until it slips over her hips and finally falls to the floor. She turns to the side to inspect her hips in the reflection and she sees it now, red marks almost finger like as she inspects the extent of the damage.

 _It's not real._ She thinks. _This time it's not real._ But she can't escape the feeling that it is.

Her fingers smooth across the markings Elliot had caused before a light tap on the door behind her causes her to jump in response.

"You okay?" she hears Elliot's muffled voice through the door and she closes her eyes, he must have heard her wrestling with her dress and it's a jarring reminder that there may be a door between them but she isn't actually alone in here.

"Yes," her voice croaks and that's when she hears the raw emotion break in her voice because she knows no part of this is okay. She swallows, her eyes beginning to prick with long overdue tears and she takes in a shaky breath, biting into her lip, trying to stop herself in her tracks but the salty residue is already brimming below her irises threatening to overspill.

She holds her breath, wading through the silence until she's sure he has retreated. Slowly then she begins to drag her underwear down her thighs but it's rough lace scraping over open cuts that finally breaks her and there is nothing she can do to stop the salty liquid from spilling down her cheeks.

 **TBC**


	18. Chapter 18

_Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews! Th_ _ey light up my life like a koala getting electrocuted. But seriously. They're awesome. And_ _Cinderella, God love you, you reviews are like a mini fic for me every time. I so appreciate your efforts._

 _Now,_ _I'm not sure what to credit this new update to but perhaps it was the strange NYC crack den we stayed in over the weekend that may or may not have had a carbon monoxide problem_ _(true and very bizarre story) either way something happened and now here this is. :) More (hopefully) soon._

* * *

Cold water pours downward as she clutches the wall for stability.

She holds a shaky hand under frozen spray as goosebumps erupt across her flesh. She silently wills the water to run warm and when steam finally begins to arise from the spray she steps forward. Sweet relief fills her body as the liquid cascades downward. Water seeps into her cuts as she moves beneath the downpour. She tries not to gasp out loud as tiny pinpricks nip at her skin, a mixture of sweet relief and pain colliding in full force.

She draws in short sharp breaths. If she's quiet he won't hear the sobs. If she's quick she won't feel this pain.

She allows the water to seep into her matted hair and down her face but the sting of her bloodied nose takes precedence as she attempts to gently rinse the crusted blood beneath the spray trying not to wince as it cracks. She's in pain but she focuses on the warmth the shower provides as opposed to her bodily aches and if she stands still, unmoving she can block it out long enough to feel anywhere but here.

A few moments pass before she hears a noise from the other room and her eyes snap open under the spray. A reminder that she's not truly at ease, she waits a few beats, trying to ascertain what she had even heard before she bows her head once more under the spray.

She sees the culmination of dirt and blood intermingling beneath her feet and it causes her mind to flash back to that car. The first accident that took multiple lives. _Don't think about it_. She presses, closing her eyes. _Not now_. She's become so good at blocking painful thoughts that her mind is instantly back in the shower. She moves her face out of the spray just in time to hear second noise through the paper thin wall, she had heard it more clearly this time and it was a low groan.

She takes a solid breath, the concept that Elliot may not be alone out there is starting to fill her chest. She thinks about the bottle of vodka, the suitcases full of clothes. She should be concerned about the noises she's hearing but the heat from the shower is taking over, making her sleepy, reducing her capacity to concentrate on anything except the liquid stream of refuge before her.

As the water continues to trail downward she starts to feel lightheaded, it's been a while since she has consumed water and she rocks a little on her feet at the thought. Her hand comes out grasping the tiles as she crouches forward, her legs suddenly no longer able to keep herself upright. She just needs to be sitting, just for a moment so the warmth of the spray can continue to soothe her limbs but the moment she crouches down on the tiles, she knows she won't be coming back up anytime soon. She lets her fingers sink into the porcelain beneath her as she rests her head against cool tile with a heavy exhale.

She is too lethargic to stand.

She needs sleep, she thinks.

Just sleep.

* * *

He sits perched on the edge of the bed, twisting the lid of vodka off with a rough snap.

He can hear the heavy spray of pummelling water coming from the next room and he tries to dispel the stark sense of guilt he is feeling at the pain she must be in right now. He douses a rag with the booze and sucks in a breath, lifting the lip of his shirt upward, wincing as the thick cut on his stomach meets with the cool night air.

A shard of glass from the first crash had sliced into his stomach, he hadn't made Olivia aware of it. In fact, he'd blocked the reality of it even from himself. He was just on autopilot, fuelled by adrenaline, he needed to get them back to safety as first priority then he could sort out the mess he had found himself in. He had shoved his jacket against his stomach in the car to soak residual blood but now here he was about to infuse straight alcohol into the jagged gash to avoid infection.

He lodges a spare rag into the corner of his mouth, biting down on the material as he runs the alcohol soaked cloth across his stomach in one foul swoop. He moans loudly in response as a slice of pain rips into through stomach, his attempt at being discreet is shot to hell as he spits out the rag, gnawing down on his lower lip bending forward with a moan. He waits a few beats psyching himself up before he goes back for one final swipe.

 _Sonofabitch_ , the sting is even sharper than the first but he knows it needs to be cleaned before it's dressed. He lets out a few strained exhales before he grasps the small rectangular first aid box from the suitcase, shifting through the bandages until he locates the largest one.

He begins to tear the corner off with his teeth silently thankful that the car he had just happened to hijack had been owned by a couple more prepared than the boy scouts. He rips the backing off the bandage and begins to flatten the patch across the offending cut one handed, wincing in response before he drags the bottle of vodka to his lips and takes a full swig.

Liquid burns this throat as he exhales heavily into the empty room catching his breath, trying to calm his senses. He considers taking another swig, the residual pain in his abdomen isn't going to settle anytime soon but it's the sound of the shower turning off that makes him reassess.

His eyeline then shifts to the door between them and he blinks once before setting the bottle down on the nightstand. No part of him can comprehend the course of events that have taken place tonight but one thing is for sure, he has to tell her.

Her has to tell her why she can't stay.

 **TBC  
**


	19. Chapter 19

_Thanks for the reviews team! I loveeee them._

 _Just a reminder that this story is set after Save Benson._ _She is still dating Cassidy at this time._

* * *

He hears the door handle begin to turn and his stomach turns along with it.

He watches her form emerge and she looks like a shell of exhaustion. Her wet hair hangs limply down her face. It's shorter and darker than he remembers and even when damp it's barely long enough to touch her shoulders. She's dressed in woman's clothing a size larger than her own and he can see red rims beneath her bloodshot eyes.

A pang of guilt hits in his chest at what he has put her through tonight.

"You okay?" He asks her, barely holding eye contact to his obvious question.

He can see her cheeks are flushed from the heat of the shower but it doesn't disguise how pale her completion has become since the accident. He drags his eyes away, he can barely look at her anymore.

"I need water," she speaks to his bowed head and he hears the flatness of her words as if all her emotion had been exhausted in the shower. He waits a few moments before he gets up, mindful of his newly dressed wound as he moves over to the shopping bag.

He had stopped in at a gas station while she had been asleep and collected vodka, painkillers, water and a bag of trail mix. He snapped off a bottle of water from the 6-pack and handed it to her, their eyes connecting briefly.

She takes it, twists off the cap off and downs the liquid in one go. When she finishes the entirety she puts the empty bottle onto the side table with a heavy exhale.

"I should check out your shoulder," her tells her stepping forward. "And disinfect any open cuts-"

"I need to use your phone," she cuts him off bluntly before he gets too close.

His stomach drops at her request. The question catches him off guard but more to the point he knows that tone. It's her hostage negotiation tone, the kind of approach she'd use if she felt cornered. The kind she'd use if she felt she was being detained against her will.

She's trying to grain control.

"Liv," he begins, trying to disarm her fear.

"I need to call the station, tell them I'm okay." She says evenly and his jaw clicks. He watches her eyes move across to the side table. "There's no phone in the room," she notes calmly. "I really need to make that call Elliot."

"Liv-" he tries.

His eyes move slowly between hers, he can see the emotion starting to steadily build within her irises. She's getting desperate. He wonders who is waiting for her back at the station. Her captain. Her colleague. Her new partner.

 _Someone else._

He considers the mood shift she's had since the shower, the thought process she would have gone through. Had she officially decided she'd had enough of his B.S.? Has it all caught up with her? Was she done with this? _With him._

He couldn't blame her.

But he also couldn't let her make that call.

"You know I can't," he tells her firmly, almost pleading with her not to push it.

She stares back at him blankly, unmoving.

"You can call them," he tells her carefully. "But not from this motel, and not tonight," he explains. "Trust me."

He feels the shift immediately as she takes a step backward and he can tell she's about to lose it, she's grasping the suitcases on the bed beginning to rustle through the clothes in search of his phone.

"I'm done trusting you Elliot," she rasps over her shoulder. "Where is it?"

He steps closer, attempting to calm her down as she frantically pulls clothes, toiletries, items out of two strangers suitcases.

"Stop," he raps. "You're only going to hurt your shoulder."

When she doesn't find what she's looking for she turns her attention to him, moving towards his waist, patting down the sides of his jeans, stepping in closer until she is reaching for his back pocket.

Her fingers brush his phone and he grabs her bicep gently, moving her away from him until he is lowering his lips to her ear.

"Listen," he rasps. "We didn't come this far, just to come this far."

The room stills and she doesn't move at first until suddenly she is shaking herself out of his hold, pushing him back in one clean motion. He sees the fire burning in her eyes at the fact that he'd touched her. His heart thuds in his chest at that one look. The one she has given him multiple times throughout the night. The one that makes him feel something has gone horribly wrong.

 _What happened Liv?_

She sees the question in his eyes. But she changes gears.

"You may not have anyone waiting for you Elliot," she stabs back shakily. "But I do."

Her words slam into him. He doesn't know what to do with this, _with her_. She's gone from non-emotive to a fiery rage in the space of 60 seconds. He thinks about her words. They sting. He hasn't checked in with his family in years. Three to be exact. It still feels as raw as yesterday. And yet she has someone eagerly awaiting her return.

She is watching him uncover this information piece by piece and can see the impact it's having on him.

"Give me the phone Elliot," she demands. " _Now._ "

There is something about the look she is giving him, the tone, the stonewall she erected between them the moment she'd stepped out of the shower.

He needs to tell her that despite it all none of this will matter tomorrow, that at the first sign of light he is going to drive her to the bus station and have her board the first bus back to New York. He knows he should come clean with her, explain in as much detail as he can to account for his actions tonight. But it's the look in her eyes that she is giving him, the one that tells him he's dead to her that makes him reassess.

 _Someone else is waiting for her.. s_ o at the end of the day nothing he could say would matter.

 _'Give me the phone Elliot.'_ He sees the demand still ripe on her tongue but she should know better than to ask.

And he knows better than to answer.

"Get some sleep Olivia," he rasps. "We leave at daybreak."

 **TBC  
**


	20. Chapter 20

_For the first time in my Amtrak life the wifi actually works on this train! So here this is. Thank you Amtrak and thank you all for reading._

 _Also huge shoutout to JessicaR for providing the incredibly inspiring surrounds of Ithaca as muse for the words below (tho it wasn't a grimmy motel in the middle of nowhere, it was quite the opposite but somehow it still worked ha). Thank you Jess!_

 _This is a quick one just to keep the story moving._

 _X_

* * *

She wakes up to the sound of running water.

Her muscles are stiff, her body is aching. She feels a panging throb in her shoulder, nausea emanating in her belly. She turns slowly, until she's on her side, her eyes attempting to adjust to the darkness.

She can see a strip of light coming from the bathroom where he'd left the door a crack open. She wonders if he purposefully left it ajar in case she tried anything while he was in there. At this point she couldn't do anything if she wanted to. Her bodies rapid decline since she fell asleep was the only thing she could focus on now.

She tries to keep her entire weight on her good shoulder but it's like she's woken up with the hangover of the century. Every muscle and fibre in her body is screaming at her for pain relief. He had offered her painkillers before she had fallen asleep but she was too exhausted and stubborn to take them.

Now it's all she can think about.

She hears heavy breathing coming from the bathroom and the intermittent sounds of running of water. Between the lack of light and the waves of pain and nausea, it feels like she's dreaming. Her hands pat the surface of the bedside table hoping to come in contact with the pill container or at the very least, some water.

Her hands locate nothing but the bedside lamp so she flicks it on, squinting against the harsh spray of light. She attempts to sit up, her mouth is parched but all of that is forgotten when she sees it lying there, crumpled up on the ground. Her heart practically stops as she takes in the crème comforter he'd taken to the floor last night marked with a considerable pool of blood in the centre. The stark contrast of red against crème makes her throat constrict. Her mind flashes back to the blood she had found on the front of her dress - the blood that came out of nowhere, the blood that wasn't hers.

She starts to peal herself off the mattress, the pang in her shoulder causing an onset of vertigo to hit. She breathes deeply in response, trying to control her shaking hands long enough to pull herself upright.

She sees him moving around in the bathroom. She catches a glimpse of him in front of the mirror, shirtless, bending over the facet in what appears to be distress. She knows she will need to see a doctor soon for her shoulder by the looks of things - he needs one _now._

* * *

He can hear her moving around out there.

He had seen the light go on, heard the rustling of sheets but all he could focus on now was the strip of agony in his lower abdomen.

He knows it's somewhere around 5:30am and he hasn't slept a wink. He'd heard Olivia fall into the makings of heavy slumber as she slipped into her first rem cycle but the pain hadn't allowed him the same luxury. He had disguised his injury from Olivia because he didn't want her to worry but now he admits, even he was worried.

As the hours drew on, it had only gotten worse. The bleeding hadn't stopped like he assumed it would, the open wound was still at risk of infection and he'd spent the last 20 minutes rerouting the entirety of their plans in his mind. Screw dropping her at the bus stop, screw his onward journey and getting himself as far away as possible - they needed help and they needed it _now_.

"El," he hears the faint makings of her voice behind the bathroom door and he waits for her to follow it up with a question. When he doesn't answer her she pushes the door slowly open, the creek making his heart thud in trepidation because he doesn't know what to tell her. He looks up, their eyes meeting in the grimy motel mirror and he holds her stare for a few moments before he sees her eyes lower to his stomach.

Then her mouth parts and she is pushing herself forward.

"Oh God," she gasps and then she is grabbing him, turning him at his elbow so she can see the full extent of his wound in the flesh. His hands curl over the lip of the bathroom counter, holding himself up as she takes it the carnage.

He'd removed the bandage from earlier and was attempting to clean the wound once more. There were clumps of bloodied toilet paper scattered across the sink and in the trash and he watches her face move from his wound to the blood soaked papers and then slowly back up to his face.

"We need…" Her fingers start to tremble as he watches her face turn a stark shade of white. "You need.."

She can't seem to finish the words and neither can he.

He tries to retain some semblance of strength in his voice when he says it so he doesn't make this worse.

"Get our stuff," he tells her quietly. "I'm going to need you to drive."

Her watery eyes blink back up at his.

"Elliot," she whispers firmly. "We're _calling_ an ambulance."

When he doesn't respond he watches the disbelief swarm at the mere prospect that they would leave this motel without immediate help but there was no way he was risking a hospital at this point.

"I know someone," he tells her quietly. "It's not far."

 **TBC**


	21. Chapter 21

_AN: Good things come in small packages… this is not one of them._

* * *

She pulled the car to a stop, her hands shaking as she put it into park.

Elliot had given her vague directions through bouts of pain and now here they were parked outside a deserted cabin, two miles from the main road in the outskirts of Ohio. It had been the first time she had actually registered just how far out of the city they had reached, it only taken a few scattered road signs to confirm they we very far from home.

Elliot was clutching his stomach, slumped to the side of the vehicle as Olivia looked ahead through the windshield at the large property nestled in the woods. There was an expansive wooden balcony spanning the perimeter of the house, the tall structure standing on stilts and they appeared to be close to water.

"Where are we?" she whispered concerned, visions of gun wielding psychopaths answering the door, grasping them and shoving them up against the wall, patting them down upon entry. This looked like a property owned by someone wealthy, purposefully positioned in the middle of nowhere with only one long windy dirt road to get in. _And out._

"Who lives here Elliot?" she questions, her fingers still poised on the keys ready to turn the ignition at any minute. She didn't have the energy for anymore surprises and she also didn't have high hopes. The cool night air whipped at her sides as he stayed silent, a permanent reminder that their windows had been shot out and warmth in their vehicle was no longer an option.

"I want you to stay here," he tells her through a pained grunt, his hand still pressing on his wound.

He hadn't even looked at her when he said it but she doesn't miss a beat.

"Like hell."

She side eyes him then and he doesn't react to her refusal but if he thinks for a second she has driven him here just to get himself killed he is sadly mistaken. There was no telling what crowd Elliot was entangled and with wounds so severe she wasn't taking any chances.

She opens her car door, rounding to his side before she was pulling his door open. She holds her hand out as a gesture of aid and he looks up at her, taking her hand reluctantly pulling himself up to his feet. She can tell immediately, his strength had considerably dwindled in the car ride as he grasps her shoulder, falling into her until her back hits the car with a grunt.

"Jesus," she whispers as she takes his weight, trying to steady him while he sandwiches her against metal. He manages to lift himself off her and she shuts his door, grasping his elbow and moving his arm over her shoulder. She leads him towards the cabin, noticing he is taking heavy, sluggish steps. She can feel his blood and perspiration lining her palms and she is praying medical aid is immanent.

"Anything I need to know?" she asks, leaves crunching beneath their feet, twigs snapping with each step. "Who are these people?" she whispers, her heart thudding at what was to come.

He stays silent, focused only on putting one foot in front of the other without falling.

"Elliot," she repeats a little firmer, desperate for an answer, for some sort of reassurance before they walk into the unknown.

"You can trust her Liv," he whispers in a shaky breath. "You can trust her with your life."

 **TBC**

* * *

 _AN: I know._


	22. Chapter 22

_AN: Okay, okay. I deserved every one of those icy reviews! But I'm back sooner than expected with said answers! Yay._

 _.._ _But also more questions.. X_

* * *

Olivia's hip supported Elliot's weight as she leant forward, her firm knock echoing down the wooden stretch of balcony. Her eyes traced the newly refurbished cabin door, whoever lived here surely wouldn't be expecting their jarring arrival at this early hour.

As moments ticked by she felt Elliot's fingers dig into her waist in earnest, a small grunt expelling as his breathing started to escalate into jagged pants. She knew he was reaching his limits and she wouldn't be able to keep him horizontal for much longer. Her eyes were desperate to turn, to seek out Elliot, to gauge his state but all her energy went into keeping him upright.

"Jackie," Elliot called out suddenly, his hand lifting off the bracket of the door to pound directly on the wood.

 _Jackie._

Olivia's mind raced. The way he'd said her name so familiar yet the name itself bearing no connection. An eerie silence took a hold as Olivia looked around, catching a peak of sunrise lifting behind the surrounding trees, a subtle hue of dawn reminding her that time wasn't on their side.

She hears movement inside, her eyes whipping back to the door in front of them as hurried feet moved down a staircase and it was a few uneasy beats before metal slid through it's catch and the door was opening before them.

A blonde woman came into view. Sleep in her startled eyes, messy shoulder length hair that framed her face, a cream cardigan closed around her chest, early 40's maybe.

She looked like an edgy version of Kathy.

"Elliot," the woman whispered in shock, her eyes widening. "Jesus, what happened?" She doesn't wait for an answer, just opens the door wide and ushers them both into the large expansive living room.

Olivia moves him forward, her arm nearly giving out, a jarring ache shooting through her bad shoulder. Her teeth bore holes into her lower lip as she tries to keep him upright amongst the pain. There is blood on her stomach, lining her palms and she looks around the room before her eyes collide with the blonde as if to say, _where do I put him?_

Jackie gestures the couch and Olivia walks the few remaining paces until she drops him down with a gentle thud, her bloodied hand bracing herself on the back of the couch so she doesn't fall into him.

Elliot lets out a groan as his back hits the sofa.

"Has he been shot?" Jackie calls out as she heads towards a large cupboard at the back of the room.

"No," Olivia breathes out, shaking out the pinch in her shoulder as she moves to take a seat beside him. "Car accident." The guilt of that statement hitting her full force, having had no idea the full extent of his damage until recently.

"What was it El?" Jackie calls out over her shoulder, her hands scrambling to accumulate boxes of medical aid. "Metal or glass?"

"Metal," Elliot grunts, now bending over from the pain.

She's back within moments and sinking down to the floor grasping the lip of his shirt and hoisting it upward but Olivia was still stuck on her words, his name, details surrounding the nature of their relationship.

' _What was it El?'_

The familiarity hadn't escaped her for a second and it was like a punch to the gut.

Jackie gasps when she sees the extent of the wound, the damage visible on her face and it makes Olivia's stomach turn.

"What can I do?" Olivia asks her eyes scanning the plethora of gauzes, needles – far more than the average home, Jackie had to be a medical doctor of some kind and that provided some relief at least.

Jackie looks up at Olivia with an expression she couldn't quite place as she began to snap on some latex gloves. It was the first time Jackie's eyes really took her in from head to toe as if she were only just realizing she was there.

"What blood type are you?" Jackie asks, her eyes scanning her like a puzzle.

The question hits Olivia sideways.

"A positive," Olivia responds.

"Good to know," she whispers, relief filling her eyes. "So is El."

A wave of protectiveness suddenly fills Olivia's chest as her eyes move from Jackie to Elliot's bowed head in confusion, unable to reconcile why a woman living in the middle of Ohio would have such intimate details of Elliot's life. She watches Jackie douse a cotton towel with disinfectant, her eyes barely lifting to Olivia's when she says it.

"You're going to come in handy," Jackie informs her and the statement singes her sides, almost as if she were implying Olivia would be useless otherwise. She watches as disinfectant meets with Elliot's open flesh and he hisses in response, his arm coming out and grasping Jackie's hand for support. Jackie grips his thigh as she leans forward, her breath blowing against the gash on his stomach in an effort to ease the sting.

Olivia feels it in her chest then like a physical force, a surge of distance hitting her like a wall. She watches their interaction play out from the sidelines, feeling almost as if she were interrupting something. Then it's Jackie who breaks the silence, her eyes moving across to an empty blood bag and needle sitting on the coffee table opposite Olivia.

"He's going to need one bag to start," Jackie whispers, her eyes finally lifting to meet Olivia's and it's something about the look in her eyes that makes Olivia's chest fall, like she was merely a piece of this ever growing puzzle that was never meant to fit.

 **TBC**

* * *

 _AN: They say you should trust no one. But trust me.._


	23. Chapter 23

_AN: I dedicate this chapter to Social Cat who has not only housed me for 1000 years but drove me to Starbucks for some much needed caffeine today and then subjected me to boring documentaries so I wouldn't get distracted by good TV as I wrote this. Thank you also to everyone for your continued support and interest in this story. I hope this next chapter answers some of your questions, if not it will all become clear soon._

* * *

Two bags of blood, 16 stitches and a shot of morphine later and Elliot found himself lying horizontal in Jackie's guest room. His eyes glazing over as he stared up at the ceiling, intricate circles forming above him as the padded mattress cocooned him from beneath. He could feel pain relief flooding through his veins, easing his muscles into a weightless state but trepidation still pounded heavily in his chest.

He blows out a heavy breath because he can feel her now, nearly a litre of Olivia's blood pumping through his veins, her essence interweaving it's way through his blood stream, pulse after pulse until it finally reaches his heart. The concept rears his mind backwards, to memories of a conversation they had in a hospital elevator a lifetime ago when they first discovered they shared a blood type.

 _I'd give you a kidney._

 _Not if I gave you mine first._

And yet his mind was still wrestling with the fact that she was here with him now _, real time._ His brain still catching up with the fact that when he told her to run at the gas station - she didn't. He thinks about how much easier it would have been if she had, how many lives could have been saved but how a huge part of him was struck by the undeniable selfish sense of relief that she didn't.

And he knew how this was going to look to her.

He knew being in Jackie's home was only going to raise more questions instead of answer much needed ones. He had had ample time to clue her in, to bring her up to speed but what he wouldn't admit to himself was that he was scared out of his damn mind at what her reaction would be. He knew he would lose her once she knew it all, or at the very least he would lose a part of her - that part that trusted him irrefutably, the part that always invariably saw the good in him.

But if he were honest, that part was probably long since gone.

"How are you feeling?" Jackie whispered from the door that was partially ajar causing Elliot to slightly jump. "Painkillers kicking?" she whispers.

Elliot closed his eyes, thankful beyond belief that he was finally in a state of recovery but equally concerned as to Olivia's whereabouts.

He took a few solid breaths.

"Come in and close the door Jack," he tells her steadily and watches as she follows suit.

Jackie looks somewhat nervous but she takes a seat on the edge of his bed until her back rests up against the bed banister.

Her eyes settle on him.

"Where is she?" Elliot asks.

"In Nate's room," Jackie she tells him slowly. "Resting up."

"Are you sure?" Elliot tries to hoist himself up to see her better but winces in response.

Jackie moves forward, lifting the pillow behind Elliot's head propping it up before she reclaims her seat.

"Yes Elliot," she lets out a knowing breath. "She gave you a lot of blood you know.. more than she should have. That combined with the painkillers for her shoulder and lack of sleep, she's going to be out for a while."

"How's her shoulder?" He asks, a pang of guilt hitting at the fact that with everything going on he'd near but forgotten.

"It was a clean dislocation relocation," she tells him, borderline impressed. "You did well."

He nods in response, thankful for that confirmation at least.

"I gave her a shot to reduce the inflammation around the joint. Her nose is okay too. She didn't break it, it's just likely to bruise like a _sonofabitch_ by morning." She says with a weak smile. "Oh and you may need to lather with some icy hot on that shoulder of hers for the next week or so.." A glint of playfulness reaches her eyes as if she knew he'd enjoy the opportunity.

He dismisses her attempt at keeping it light-hearted, his mind too focused elsewhere.

"Did you tell her not to use the phone, not to do anything-"

"Yes El," Jackie tells him through a tired breath, like he shouldn't even have to ask.

He feels a surge of relief.

"And how did she respond to that?" Elliot raises his eyebrows.

"Not well," Jackie blows out.

"How much does she know?" he asks cautiously, knowing they would have had adequate time for conversation while Jackie was tending to her shoulder.

She gives him a humerous laugh before she tilts her head in question. "You tell me."

A few beats pass as she picks some non-existent fluff off her pyjama pants.

"I mean, she must mean a lot to you if you risked bringing her here."

Elliot closes his eyes. "I know.. it's…" his words trail off as he tries to find the right words. "She's.." but he doesn't even know how to categorise it. To categorise her. In fact, he doesn't think he's ever been able to.

"Look," Jackie expels a breath. "I can tell that she's important to you, that's all I really need to know. The less I know the better right?" Jackie scrubs her hands down her thighs before she begins to get up.

"Wait Jack," he stops her with her words. "You know I wouldn't have risked being here if I had _any_ another option. The last thing I wanted was to put you in danger too."

"Like I said Elliot," she said with a pained smile. "You come to me, _always_ come to me." Her eyes traced his before he sees a sadness that causes her to practically rear back. "Nate would have wanted that," she says through a shaky breath.

Elliot nodded, the name rattling him more than he'd expected.

"Yeah," Elliot blew out as a wave of regret and nausea hit his stomach, a bout of memories he'd rather not face bubbling up to the surface. "Look," he tries to grasp. "Don't mention Nathan to Liv okay. Don't mention anything. I've…" his words trailed off and he almost felt hopeless. "I want it to come from me."

Jackie just stares at him, as a silent wave of understanding passes between them.

"Mum's the word." She whispers with a smile reserved only for him.

She moves to the door then, her hand just about to turn the handle when he stops her.

"Jackie, as soon as she wakes up," he scrubs a hand over his face. "Can you tell her I want to see her.. that I want to talk to her." His head craning so they can still make eye contact.

A few beats pass between them as he watches her consider his request.

"You sure that's a good idea Elliot, you need rest," she tells him as she lingers by the door, her eyes moving down to his covered stomach.

"Please," he tells her quietly. "If I don't talk to her soon," he lets out an anxious breath. "She's going to run."

 **TBC**

* * *

 _AN: P.S. I'm not a medical doctor and don't pretend to be. So go easy. :)_


	24. Chapter 24

_AN: Have you ever booked yourself into a dingy motel for a week to write fan fic? Because same._

* * *

Olivia knocked on his door, her tap so light she barely heard it for herself.

She was still a little woozy from the painkillers, still disorientated from broken sleep. It was somewhere around the 2pm mark, she had gone down to the kitchen before she had come to Elliot's room, spied Jackie who was making them an early dinner - or a late lunch, she wasn't sure. The smell of Moroccan casserole permeated through the house, stirring her belly into action, reminding her that it had been nearly 24 hours since she had a decent meal. The trail mix in the motel hadn't cut it.

Jackie offered her a bite while it cooked but she had declined, saying she wanted to check on Elliot first, her mind needing reprieve before her stomach did. She also still needed to call the precinct asap, to stop the search she invariably knew would be happening around her. _"Got anything Cap?"_ She could almost hear the pain and discomfort in Amaro's voice at the fact that he lost her. _Again_. So soon after Lewis. Each moment that ticked by another guilt-laden minute she had to push to the back of her mind because a selfish _sonofabitch_ wouldn't tell her what the hell was going on.

And now here she was, outside his door with his name perched on her tongue still no closer to finding her answers, her mind just flooded with new ones. She swallows his name back down, twisting the knob instead and walking into the room, no longer giving him the courtesy of notice, a part of her feeling it was no longer his right.

She spots him lying on his back, his head tilted to the side, one hand on his bare chest the other under the sheet by his hip. She watches his chest rise and fall, the patch of gauze on his stomach lifting under each sleep induced breath. Her eyes trace over the scratches that mark his throat, now appearing red raw in the harsh light of day. The scratches that she caused, the ones he _made_ her inflict.

Her eyes flicker in response and she takes a weighted breath. Her fingers come out slowly, the tips only just brushing across the raised flesh as if she needed confirmation that they were actually real. _That any part of this was._ Her own body marked by his fingers, his mouth, his teeth – scratches, bite marks against her throat, marks that now mirrored his. Her fingers curled around his neck her thumb involuntarily pressing into the column, the thick muscles tripping underneath her touch before she moves her other hand across until she applies equal pressure, squeezing his throat between her hands.

His eyes snap open as he struggles against her hold but she grips harder, ignoring the feel of his fingernails digging into her flesh as disgruntled, gurgled, desperate noises escape his throat. She gives him no reprieve, just watches on blankly as he wrestles for breath, reveling in the way his throat struggles for air beneath her capture. Then she feels it, words pounding in her chest, permeating through her ears and coming out of her larynx as if they were her own.

" _Lights out."_

* * *

Her heart trips against her ribcage as she lets out a gasp. Her eyes snap open, her chest pounding into overdrive as she blinks against the darkness. She sits up, covers falling off her, sweat lining her hairline as her shaky hands pat beside her for the lamp. She switches it on, a flood of light pouring through the empty room as her eyes capture the clock beside her.

2:12pm.

She takes a few solid breaths. Where is she? Her mind rattles to remember. _Jackie's._ She's still at Jackie's. And that was just a dream. _Just a dream._ The room itself looks pitch black from the block out blinds, disorientating her even more so.

She is shaking, her hands rattling with a force she hasn't experienced since Lewis. She takes a deep breath, bowing over the side of the bed until her nose is steepled in her hands. Long moments pass until she is finally moving towards the bathroom ensuite connected to the bedroom and closing the door with a light clink.

Her hands press against porcelain as she takes her self in, leaning in a little closer to get a good look. Dark purple brusing outlines her nose as red marks trail down the column of her throat. She's woozy from the drugs, nauseous from lack of food. Her shaky hands turn on the faucet filling her hands with water. She takes a few generous sips before she is splashing water on her face, then she just blinks back at her reflection.

 _Just a dream._ She repeats to herself. _Just a dream._

She moves towards the bedroom door and when she makes it into the hall a flood of Moroccan casserole hits her like a wall, her mind going into overdrive. She takes the few steps towards the guest room, her unsteady hands coming out until she is twisting the knob, desperate to see if he's in the same position she had dreamt. As she steps through the room all she spies is an empty bed, covers ruffled, sunlight pouring in and lighting up the space he no longer occupied.

She takes a few shallow breaths, her lungs still unable to fill completely before she turns to walk back out. She collides with him immediately, a pang of fear shooting through her chest at his unexpected presence. He goes to steady her but she moves backwards until she bumps into the open door.

"Jesus," Elliot whispers. "It's just me," he puts his hands up in surrender.

Her eyes are wild with trepidation as she tries to steady her breath her hands moving behind her, pushing the door backwards so she has space to back up from him. But the thing that scares her the most is it no longer matters _who he is_ , because Elliot Stabler was no longer a source of trust in this world.

And neither was she.

* * *

"Relax," Elliot tries again, his arms raised in defense indicating that he's not a threat.

"Liv.." he whispers again until she appears to be coming back down, her breathing returning to normal but her scattered gaze is focused on anything but him.

"What happened?" His irises trace hers worriedly, aching to step a little closer but knowing it will do her no good.

"I.." she begins and he watches a red flush chase it's way up her chest. "You were.." She blinks. "I was."

He's not used to seeing her like this, so rattled, so easily charged, so on edge, he's only seen this mode of hers a few times but now he's seeing something much deeper in her eyes. Similar to the terror he saw in the trailer, only this time, a much darker fear.

"Liv," he tries again.

"I'm.." she says through a breath. "I just.. I need to make a call Elliot, can you please just take me to a phone. It's been over 24 hours.." her words rattle off in panic. "I can't do this okay. I can't do this to Cragen."

He swallows, a feeling washing over him that she is going to run. For good this time. She's still not looking at him and he can see her hands are still trembling slightly beneath her hold. She folds them against her chest in order to still them and he waits a few beats before he says it.

"You know you could have left at any time," his voice drops a few octaves lower. "I told you to leave at the gas station.. and you didn't," he reminds her, treading carefully.

Her eyes flit briefly up to his before she moves them away once more.

"Look," he whispers with all the seriousness he can muster. "Let me just explain to you what's going on okay Liv," he sighs. "Then, once you know, I'll take you to a pay phone in town." Knowing at that point she will have no choice but to run anyway. "But first.. let's just eat. It's been hours and you lost a lot of blood," he whispers, treating her like a startled vicitim he's trying to coax with food.

A few beats exchange between them until he finally feels her shift.

She starts to move then, walking past him, ensuring no part of their bodies connect as she passes him in the hallway. He can still feel her fury. Still hear her anguish. Still sense her distrust. But he considers it a win because for at least another couple of hours, she isn't going to run.

 **TBC  
**

* * *

 _AN: Oh f**k. I know. I know. I still haven't explained but I promise you the answers are coming! *Le creys* I just couldn't rush it out of them for the sake of getting it out you know. It will be worth it I promise. Please forgive me. Love you long time. Also sidebar your reviews omg. I love you. I love them. They are my crack. Your detail does not go unnoticed and I'm here for it. X_


	25. Chapter 25

_AN: So here it is. The big reveal. Cats out of the bag. Well Jackie is. Thank you all for your patience in the discovery. I hope to be able to continue to update this story regularly but I'm back in the real world now where I have to be human again so it's probably going to be less frequent. *Howls.*_

 _In the meantime_ _I made this extra long to tide you over._

* * *

She watches Elliot take a generous forkful of Jackie's casserole, his jawline flexing as he chews his mouthful. She had seen remnants of her partner returning upstairs but she knows better now, she knows he can turn on her at any moment. Too much has happened for her to see him as an ally. He has secrets he's hiding just like everyone else, the biggest being the blonde sitting across from her at the table.

"How is it?" Elliot asks her, his eyes moving down to her barely touched plate.

Olivia takes a sip of water.

"Good," she responds, her mind more focused on the ticking clock behind Elliot's head than the food in front of her. She just wants this meal over and done with so she can get into town and make that call.

 _'Got anything Cap?'_

"You should eat," Elliot tells her, taking another bite and pointing to her plate. "Refuel yourself."

"I _am_ eating," she snaps back a little too tersely.

A few beats pass before Jackie clears her throat in an effort to ease the tension.

"So Olivia," Jackie speaks with a perfectly strained smile. "Elliot tells me you two worked together back in the day."

Olivia's fork stills against the plate. It's the first time she's been referred to by name. It's also the first time Jackie's made mention to anything beyond medical aid and 'resting up.'

"Well that's funny," Olivia waits a beat, holding Jackie's eye contact. "Because Elliot's told me _nothing_ about you."

The statement hangs in the air like a stagnant sheet and everyone stills around the table.

"Liv," Elliot warns.

Olivia holds Jackie's gaze intentionally, up until this point she had been civil with Jackie but her patience was wearing thin.

"I think he was just waiting for you to be well rested Olivia." Jackie explains, her words treading carefully but her eyes telling another story.

Olivia takes another measured bite, spicy flavors intermingling with rice starting to ease through her system, lining her stomach, thankful for the relief but less than pleased it had been Jackie who provided it.

Olivia doesn't respond but she doesn't have to. She knows the look Jackie is giving her is familiar because it's the one she has given women who had circled Elliot for years.

 _She's protective as fuck._

"And what about Elliot.." Olivia shifts gears. "Has he told you he has a family? A wife, kids, a job, a _partner_ that he's left behind?" she whispers, her tone laden with accusation on both sides.

"Olivia," Elliot repeats sternly, his hand braced on his thigh.

"I'm clear on Elliot's history," Jackie says without missing a beat.

Olivia's eyes flicker, tension overtaking before she sits back with a scoff.

Elliot drops his fork onto the plate at that point and scrubs a hand over his face.

"Stop okay Liv, Jackie's an old friend," he tells her. "Her brother Nathan and I were in the marines together. Jackie's met Kathy - the kids.." his voice trails off and suddenly he can't look at her when he says it. "She's family," he whispers, the sentiment hitting her harder than she expects. "So can we just stop whatever this is.. whatever it is you're doing."

Olivia's eyebrows raise. She cannot believe his tone and that he is throwing this all back on her.

"Stop what _I'm_ doing?" she responds with a humorless smile. Her mind still trying to process the pieces he'd haphazardly thrown her way while simultaneously coming up with an appropriate response.

' _So you're not fucking her then?'_ She longs to spit out but instead she opts for something less crass. "How about _you_ stop Elliot," she whispers. "And explain to me why I can't use a phone or make a _goddamned_ move without yours or Jackie's permission."

Jackie pops another bite casserole in her mouth and chews slowly watching the interaction play out before her. Olivia hears Jackie chewing but her eyes never leave Elliot's.

"Jackie," he whispers slowly, his gaze still fixed on Olivia as they continue their standoff. "Can you give us a minute please?"

Jackie finishes her mouthful before she moves into a standing position, her chair careening back with a high-pitched force.

"She doesn't need to leave Elliot," Olivia throws back at him defensively. "I just want answers and I'm done waiting."

But it's too late Jackie's already picking up her plate and walking into the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

Elliot's attention turns back to Olivia, a look of disbelief lining his face.

"Are you serious?" He whispers, his tone a few octaves lower. "You're a guest in her _home_ Olivia." He looks pissed as hell at her little performance. "Are you done?"

"Pretty close," her eyes flit to the exit. "You've got 2 minutes till I'm walking out that door."

He gives her a long drawn out look as if he is silently debating actually letting her go.

She see's it in his eyes then, if there were sides to this story he'd be taking Jackie's right now. She shakes her head at the realization, tossing down her napkin and pushing her chair backwards with a squeak that rivals Jackie's.

She's done. She cannot possibly stay in this house a moment longer. She walks to the door at a steady pace, she has no idea where she is going or how she will get there but she isn't stopping.

"Jackie's brother was a federal agent," Elliot calls out just before she makes it to the door.

Olivia stills on her feet, her hand hovering above the doorknob as she waits a few beats.

"After the marines, I went into the academy, Nathan went federal - FBI," Elliot lets out a worn-out breath, as if this story had been circling in his head for years and he was sick to death of telling it. "We'd been in and out of touch over the years but after.." Elliot pauses, a few beats passing before he says it. "Jenna.." he whispers. "I needed something," he lets out a heavy guilt laden breath. " _Anything_ to take my mind of it."

" _Off it all.._ "

He's still sitting with this back to her but it's enough to make her move the few paces back towards her chair until she is slowly reclaiming her seat. His words finally starting to reference something tangible, something she can work with.

He waits for her eye contact before he continues.

"He said he needed help with a case," he tells her slowly. "He knew I lived and breathed sex crimes.. that I could help with the victims and that I had the time now. He needed me in there Liv." He tells her, his eyes just begging her to understand. "All of those women needed help." His voice trails off.

Her eyes move downward, watching his fingers tap uneasily against marble.

"After the first couple of months of being under.." he continues, his eyes flitting to the kitchen door as if he were silently hoping Jackie wasn't listening on the other end. "They made Nathan," he whispers, his eyes returning to hers. "Figured out he was a fed." And a few beats pass before he confirms it.

"He was killed on my watch."

Olivia's watches a cloud of sorrow pass through his irises and her heart clenches with unexpected sympathy.

"It wasn't supposed to go down like that." He shakes his head. "None of it was."

Elliot pauses, looking away momentarily before his eyes move back to hers.

"I had to break the news to Jackie myself.. " his voice croaks. "And ever since she's been helping me. Transporting the women, getting them to safety. Some she's managed to help from afar with some contacts she has around the state, others she helps directly," the words spill out of him like a weighted confession. "We were just doing what we could to get justice for Nate's death… make it somehow seem worth it."

A serge of relief pours through her veins. "El why didn't you just tell me this?" She shakes her head, her tone calm and softened. "You don't think this information would have been helpful 24 hours ago? You don't think I would have understood, that I could have _helped_ in some way, make this whole thing easier on you – on _us_? If you're keeping our location quiet because of the case, I understand-"

He scrubs a hand down his stubble in frustration, no longer looking at her when he says it.

"Liv," he says with a tone that makes her heart thud with overwhelming trepidation. "That's the thing. There is no case.. there never was."

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"What Nathan was doing… what _I_ was doing. It was a favor Olivia. Not a cover."

Her heart starts to thrum, all the pieces finally and alarmingly falling into place.

"El.." her voice is shaky.

"The Feds dropped the case years ago but Nathan couldn't let it go.. he _wouldn't_ let it go. You remember what that's like don't you?" He leans forward intently trying to get her to understand. "You get so wrapped up in a case, the victims, you refuse to let it go. I couldn't let him go in alone." His voice sounds desperate for her to remember and her mind reels back to several cases where Cragen had told them to drop it and they hadn't.

"By the end of it, he was in there without his badge.. on his own terms."

"And you?" Her voice was low.

He stills, his blue eyes searching hers.

"Do you really think the feds would have touched me after Jenna?" he whispers. "Do you think anyone would?"

It's confirmed for her then. He was never with the FBI. He went in blind, with no badge, no handlers, no rights. He was in there as a citizen - a goddamned vigilantly with guilt laden motivations and an axe to grind.

The room stills before he delivers the final nail.

"Liv, there's a warrant out for my arrest."

The house pulses around them at that point, an awful, debilitating silence enveloping them. All the air is sucked out of Olivia's lungs, the room, her entire world. Her heart is thrumming in her chest, her palms and under arms slick with sweat. Tears prick at her irises as her clammy fingers tremble against the marble table.

 _He's on the run._

 _Legitimately._

She shakes her head, liquid starting to pool in the corners of her eyes. The people who lost their lives last night in the crash. The car they stole, the one sitting outside the front of the house. All of it very real. Very tangible. All very _illegal_. Meaning there is no end to this. No outcome that seems him back in New York, back in his life with his kids or any part of hers for that matter. No shield or captain or precinct to hide behind, no ADA to call in favors.

Just Elliot and Jackie in a secluded cabin in the middle of Ohio.

"Are you kidding me," she whispers, her voice shaky, anger imbedded deep within her tone. She feels like she's speaking for Kathy here, for his kids, for everything he had thrown away so recklessly. She wants to scream at him until she is blue in the face but she can barely get her vocal chords to cooperate. "You threw your life away… just like that," her voice cracks, disbelief lining her irises causing them to fill with an unexpected bout of emotion.

She feels sick, nauseous, uneasy.

"How could you be so.."

"Stupid." He finishes.

"Selfish," she corrects with a horrified stare.

She's speaking for his family but she knows deep down she's really speaking for herself.

His face hardens as he takes her insult.

"I made my bed Olivia," he whispers. "I realize what I've done and believe me I've exhausted all options and this is where we are. The sheets from the motel are in the trunk, I cleaned our DNA off the motel. This afternoon I drive you into town, then Jackie and I will dump the car tonight. We've got cash, enough to get you back to the city tonight – so you make your phone call, do what you have to do, and you go."

She stares at him long and hard before she starts shaking her head, a tear finally breaking free and falling down her cheek. Her watery eyes remain transfixed on his as she continues to shake her head. She isn't sure what exactly she is resisting, whether it's his confession or his plan - or all of it.

"You should have left long before any of this had to happen Olivia.." he whispers, blame ingrained in his words. "I _tried_ to keep you out of this but you wouldn't listen," he whispers angrily, his voice cracking as he watches the emotion pour out of her, trying his best not to match it. "But you know it as well as I do.. the longer you stay here, you'll only be aiding and abetting."

She pushes back her chair suddenly and stands up, refusing to listen to a second more of this. She turns around, her hands clutching the sink unsure if the bile rising is from his words or the Moroccan curry that's now doing summersaults in her stomach.

"You've got to turn yourself in," she whispers shakily, her fingers pressing into the counter top for stability. She knows it's the only way for this to ever stop.

He stands up, moving over to her side, a few moments of silence passing between them as his eyes settle on her profile.

"I know what you're thinking," he begins, his tone low. "I know where your minds going. You think you can find a solution here, a deal, a plea. You're already thinking about calling in all the goddamn favors anyone has ever owed you but I need you to listen to me. I don't want any of it okay," he presses. "Too much has happened. I'm in this far too deep. And anything you _think_ you can do for me is only going to make this shit storm worse, not to mention for you too. _Tell me_ you get that, tell me you're not going to do anything stupid."

Her eyes are trained on the sink as she breathes through her nose, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

"And what if I turn you in?"

The room slows then. She doesn't know why she said it. Both of them know she won't, but a small part of her aches to test it. To test the boundaries, to see how far gone he is. To see if the monster from the trailer will rear it's ugly head once more when he feels threatened, caged, helpless. She's learnt by now that life picks away at all of us, backs us into corners we never anticipated, turns us into people we never thought we'd become and a sick part of her craves to discover just how much light has been sucked out of him and how much darkness remains.

"At least that way I know you'll be alive," she spits. Her threat had come out harsh, ugly, jagged and hung uneasily between them as she continued to study the sink.

He doesn't bite back, but his voice is low and measured.

"Telling you was a risk Olivia," he warns. "Don't make me regret it."

She feels a slice of threat creep up her spine as she turns to slowly capture his eye contact. And there it is, a flash of the man from the trailer, the iciness in his stare, in his tone, in the fists that are curling underneath him. She's baiting him with her eyes, her words, _she knows it_ , because God knows after that news she can't handle anything other than a fight right now.

His blue irises hold hers for what seems like an eternity.

"I need you to say it.." he tells her firmly. His stare hard, his jawline flexing beneath the tension. "Jackie has my back," he whispers, each syllable deliberatly. "I need to know you do too."

Something flickers in her eyes then and she feels a bout of awareness overtake.

"You _are_ sleeping with her," she whispers in shock, the realization hitting her hard and fast.

Of course he is.

Fugitives out here in the middle of goddamn nowhere with nothing but each other. Guilt. Anger. Regret. Grief. Hopelessness.

Sleepless nights.

He moves forward, grabbing her cheek firmly, forcing her to look up at him when she says it.

"No _,"_ he presses, his eyes flitting between hers. "I told you Liv, she's _family_. I'm all she has left. But if she even suspects for a second you're going to do something, she isn't going to take any chances. She's in this just as deep as I am. She has just as much to lose."

His words make her push backward, his hand leaving her with face the motion, the idea that they are both just as tied up in this as each other makes her furious.

"So what now El, are you two just going to shack up here like Bonnie and Clyde? Live out your days on the run?" She rasps. "That the plan?"

He steps forward again, this time pulling her forward by her bicep until their bodies collide with a light thud.

"Stop," he whispers, his body is close, a breath escaping her from the abrupt motion. He isn't hurting her but he is holding her firmly to keep her in place so he can whisper. "Keep your voice down," his mouth is in her ear, the side of his chest pressed up against her torso as a hand slides up her shoulder blades to keep her in place. "This isn't a joke. You wanted the truth, I gave it to you," he rasps into her ear and her heart thuds at their proximity, shivers running up her spine at his touch. "You don't like it, fine. But don't be stupid Olivia. Don't get yourself killed for this – _for me_ ," he presses. "Be smart about this."

She had expected anger, force, rage to emanate out of his fingertips particularly at her threat but the intimate way in which he is holding her has her body softening, weakening, every fibre of her being pulsating in response.

She takes a moment to catch her breath, dormant anger continuing to thread through her veins but it's slowly dissipating beneath his touch.

"I'm going to make that call today," she whispers firmly, still trying to collect her bearings in his hold and gather the strength to get this out in one go.

"But Elliot," she whispers, trepidation pounding through her chest, a wave of nausea induced nerves overtaking as she says it.

"I'm not leaving."

 **TBC**

* * *

 _AN: Boom. Shuckalucka. Okay. So thoughts? Who guessed this outcome? Some of you were real close. Happy? Sad? Angry? Want a refund?_


	26. Chapter 26

_AN: I can't believe I haven't updated this story since I left the States (January). I'm so sorry but for some reason I wasn't able to touch it until now._ _**PLEASE NOTE: THIS CHAPTER IS SHORT AS HELL** - BUT I'm posting the next one in 24 hours. It's already written. I just wanted to shake you all up to high heavens first (because I'm sick like that) and I'm also interested to know if you can guess what the hell is happening now... let me know in your comments below. Thanks again for all the words and a big shout out to Emily from Twitter for the good vibes she sent me the other day with regards to continuing this story as t_ _hey clearly worked._

 _See you tomorrow. X_

* * *

Elliot had driven her into town to make the call but it was only now that she was a few feet from a phone booth that she was having reservations. Her fingers flexed nervously against her thigh, she couldn't articulate why she felt so uncertain about calling the precinct but it was a tangible pull in the pit of her stomach.

 _Something was off._

She felt Elliot's hot stare on the side of her face as he waited for her to exit Jackie's SUV, unsure as to why she was wasn't moving. She turned to face him, her chest panging with unease, hoping that with one look she could gauge his state, ascertain where he stood in all this.

But there was that poker face staring back at her.

Her eye line shifted to the side mirror watching as a bus pulled up behind their car and a collection of people exited one by one. Her eyes slowly moved back to his and she let out the breath she was holding, realizing the clarity she sought remained trapped between his blank stare and his blonde roommate.

It was in that realization that she turned the car door handle in defeat.

"Wait." His voice stopped her.

She knew the other shoe was about to drop and she prayed he was about to say something that would unravel the knot in her stomach and not make it increasingly tighter.

"Look," he breathed out, rubbing his stubble the way he did when he was withholding something. "You can make that call," he whispered, his eyes moving between hers slowly. "But there's something you should know first."

She closed her eyes.

 _Another bombshell._

She was still reeling from the last one.

She shook her head with a humorless laugh.

"What Elliot.. Jackie's pregnant?"

He stared at her, ignoring her ill-placed comment and instead he moved forward and opened the glove department. She spied a blank padded envelope nestled between car chargers and her eyes flicked to his in question. He motioned for her to retrieve it but when she didn't, he leant forward, their shoulders knocking as he seized the envelope and held it out to her.

"Here," he whispered.

"What is it?" She asked but all he did was continue holding it out to her.

She reluctantly took the envelope and tore the lip open. A wave of unsettling silence flowed between them as she inspected the contents, pulling each one out with confusion until she noticed one piece of paper in particular. Her eyes scanned the words and she froze, her lips parted before she looked up at him. It was mostly disbelief that churned through her stomach but it was also an unmistakable pang of hurt that rocked through her chest.

"What is this Elliot?" She asked, but it was redundant - she knew what it was, she could read it clear as day, she just wanted him to say it to her face. He stared at her blankly as they waded through their silent standoff before she finally shook her head, shoving the envelope and piece of paper firmly against his chest until he was grabbing it with his hand.

She pulled open the door in a flurry. She half expected him to reach out. Half expected him stop her with a yell or his hands but he just let her go. Her face got whipped by the hot wind, her irises pricked with a flurry tears before she bypassed the payphone entirely and headed towards the roadside diner door.

 _Fuck you Elliot Stabler._

 _Fuck you._

* * *

 **TBC**


	27. Chapter 27

_AN: I posted this early as I may have another soon and I love positive momentum._

 _Fingers crossed.._

 _(For Bernie.)_

* * *

He found her in a booth at the back of the diner nursing a glass of water.

He took a seat opposite her, pleather ripping under his weight as he watched her fiddle with the straw. She ripped the white sheet off and stabbed the red plastic heatedly through liquid and ice. Her eyes lifted to his then and he could see the anger imbedded in her irises.

"Listen," he began in a breath before she could say a word. "You can hate me all you want," he tried desperately to lock eyes with her. "That's pretty much a given these days." He scanned the attention levels of the patrons attempting to keep the volume and intensity of their conversation contained between them. "You know I've done things I'm not proud of Liv... a lot of things." His mind instantly flashed back to when he was first pinning her up against the wall, grabbing her ass, her breasts.

' _Between her legs.. or I'll do it.'_

He closed his eyes at the memory. "Please just let me do this.." he whispered. "You and I both know this is for the best."

She shook her head, an unmistakable sheen of liquid lining her irises as she turned to gaze out the window, seemingly still trying to pull herself together since his bombshell. His focus moved down to the water she was clutching and he dug his hand into his jacket, pulling out the envelope and removing a $20 bill from it's contents, waiting a few beats before her slid it in front of her.

"At least get yourself something substantial while you wait."

She pushed the money back to him. "I'm not hungry," her voice cracked with emotion as she circled the straw around the glass, ice knocking haphazardly into each other. "I'm still trying to keep that curry down." She chose that moment to look up at him, a wealth of accusation and emotion staring back at him.

 _Jackie._

He watched the cogs turn over in her mind as she studied his reaction to her statement and he sat back in the booth, scrubbing a hand over his face, not sure why she insisted on going there.

"Is that why you're doing all of this?" Her watery eyes didn't waver when she said it but he caught a momentary flicker of vulnerability pass through her.

"No," he said simply. "I told you. This isn't about her."

He watched Olivia take another draw of water and a pang of guilt hit. It was clear she was still making up for the hydration deficiency she'd experienced over the course their passing days. That's when his eyes moved to her shoulder and he wondered just how much pain she was still in.

She hid it well.

He made eye contact with the waitress by the counter, nodding for her attention. He was in desperate need of a distraction, a way to prolong this long enough to get his message out.

"I'll wait with you," he whispered, his chest clenching in unexpected conflict as to whether he was even doing the right thing.

She lifted her head. "Don't."

He watched her continue to finger the tip of her straw, wishing he'd stopped her in the confines of Jackie's car. Pulled her back in, forced her to face this then and there so they could hash this out properly in unfiltered, direct, privacy - instead of stifled and censored in a crowded diner full of witnesses.

"It's going to be a while until you can eat again," he explained.

Her eyes narrowed at that comment and from the look on her face he instantly regretted his choice of words.

"If you're _really_ going to leave me in a gas station diner with a bus ticket and an envelope full of cash Elliot, you can go right now," she rasped, the words pummelling out of her like fire.

Her voice had risen considerably and he stared at her long and hard, unsure of how to respond. He felt scattered eyes from diner patrons on the back of his head and he knew he had to play this delicately. He pinned her down with his disbelief, furious at her blatant disregard for their circumstance. This was effectively his 'hometown' for Christ sake.

The waitress came over at that point to take his order and he looked up at her sudden presence.

"Ah what can I get you?" She stammered awkwardly, realizing she was interrupting something.

"Just a coffee thanks-"

"He was just leaving." Olivia cut him off.

Elliot disregarded her comment. "A coffee please - black."

The waitress took the order before she skittered back to the kitchen.

"Seriously Elliot," she lowered her voice only a notch or two before she leant forward, pressing her index finger against the table for effect. "If _this_ is really how it's going to end, then I need you to go. _Now_. There's nothing more I have to say to you." There was a seriousness imbedded in her tone that he hadn't heard since the trailer.

He opened his mouth to say something before he thought better of it. The hint of emotional vulnerability he'd witnessed earlier was now long gone.

"You can't fly without ID," he explained, trying to keep the conversation streamlined. "That's why we're here, at a bus station in the middle Ohio." He motions around the diner for effect. "I'd take you to the city myself but we can't risk being on the road. The bus is going to stop at Pittsburgh tonight and then Philadelphia, it's a long trip but it will get you to New York by 7am-"

"I've got it Elliot," she cut him off, pleather crunching behind her as she sat back. "I've seen the ticket. I don't need a play-by-play of the itinerary." She spat. "So unless you're waiting around to make sure I actually get on the bus you, you don't have to - consider me gone," she finished off in a strained whisper.

He half expected her to stand up at that point but she doesn't, she simply stares at him expecting him to be the one to move. The tension grew thick between them and he could feel he was on borrowed time now.

He leaned forward. "Don't talk to anyone Liv," he pleaded,. "You hear me? Anyone asks your name, you make it up. Keep a low profile on the bus, stay away from cameras in public toilets, convenience stores," his eyes searched hers with concern before he said it. "And if you can hold off.. " he waited a few beats before he said it. "Don't make the call until you get to the city."

A humourless smile lined her features as he saw an awareness flicker through her.

"Go to hell Elliot," she whispered.

Her words were small but deliberate and he knew then, that was the moment she checked out. He realized from his statement she must think he's doing this for his own selfish reasons, to protect _his_ ass, but if that were the case he would have pulled the plug on this a long time ago. He knew the fight from the trailer wasn't over just yet and she was still a moving target.

He couldn't risk that.

He couldn't risk her.

"Are you done telling me what to do?" She whispered all too calmly, moving her empty glass to the side before she started to get up.

"You know this is the right thing, please tell me you get that-"

She slammed her hand down on the table. "I swear to fucking God if you say that one more time. _Nothing_ about this is right," she rasped loudly enough for the whole diner to hear. "Including, and not limited to you taking me to a public place so I can't make a goddamn scene. So you want me to go quietly." She purposefully yelled out. "You want me to leave you to your white picket fence existence without blowing your pathetic excuse for a life then you got it. Good luck Elliot. Give my regards to Jackie."

She stood up then, snatching the envelope from the table, bypassing the waitress carrying his coffee and making a b-line to the back door of the diner. He watched her push it open, a mixture of fury, anger and anguish all churning through his veins but one thing was for sure.

He'd be damned if it was ending like that.

 **TBC**


	28. Chapter 28

_AN: Savour this because I'm gonna need a few days off._

* * *

The diner door barely slammed to a shut before Elliot was up and following her.

He knew he should _stop_.

He knew he should just let her go but he couldn't let it rest.

Not like that.

Not if this truly was the end of them.

He saw her round the corner into the back alley and adrenaline fuelled him forward.

"You gotta death wish screaming in there like that?" He growled.

She spun around, gravel crunching beneath her feet.

"You know what Elliot, _screw you,"_ she seethed. "At least before all of this I thought you were with your family, your kids - safe and happy. _Now_ I get to spend the rest of my life wondering if you're even alive, while you live out your poor excuse for an existence in some dead-end town just waiting to be killed."

"Keep-your-goddamn-voice-down." He stabbed back in a flurry.

"Do you know what that does to a person Elliot?" She disregarded his fury, meeting him dead in the eyes. " _Not_ knowing?"

The words bounced of the walls of the alley and he just stared at her, a few inches from her face.

"Right," she leveraged his silence with a smirk. "You don't, because you're a selfish son of a bitch who only thinks about himself. How about I break it down for you. Oregon," she whispered, waiting for the concept to register on his face. "But imagine it's not the FBI's choice, it's not Cragen's choice, it wholeheartedly _my_ decision to walk away from _you_ , from our partnership – from 13 goddamn years without a word and instead of coming back after a few months," she lets out a humorless laugh. "I just _don't_ come back at all, I'm a ghost to you. How exactly do you think you would feel?" He watched years of pent up anger spill out of her in the back alley behind a diner. "Did you think about _any_ of that for a second?

Her eyes were wild with emotion and he turned away from her stare, unsure just how she expected him to respond to that in one formulated response. He turned back to her, studying her pained expression and he knew what he was about to say was a cop-out but it was the only way he could defuse this without it escalating any further.

"I get it Olivia… I do. Those months you were gone ...just about killed me. But we all make choices even if it doesn't feel like it - Oregon was your choice. And Jenna was mine." His eyes moved between hers. "Nothing can change that now."

The air stilled around them as he watched the information register on her face, he was effectively telling her that he has given up. That there was no hope.

The light warm breeze from the alley picked up, wisping her hair across her face in a tumultuous flurry representative of the clusterfuck they had found themselves in. He thinks he may have disarmed her fight at that point, that he may have gotten through to her - that this could quite possibly end on a civil note.

"You know what El." He heard the anger drop suddenly from her voice but it was replaced with something much more hollowed out. "I'm actually glad we ended up here.. as awful as this entire experience has been for me, at least now I can finally move on from this."

He braced for the hit.

"From you.." She whispered.

She started to walk away and it was instinctual.

He stepped forward, grabbing her arm, not realizing it was her wounded shoulder and she yanked out of his hold. The howl retched through her larynx bouncing off the brick walls of the alley. _Fuck!_ He let go instantly and she grabbed her arm, holding it tightly as she fell back against the wall pinching her eyes closed.

"Jesus fucking Christ-"

" _Fuck_ , I'm sorry Liv." He tried to move in close but a man coming out of the diner was dividing them before he had a chance.

"Step back." He barked at Elliot.

Olivia slid down the brick wall clutching her arm against her chest trying to catch her breath. He watched her face scrunch up in a mask of pain that consumed her.

"It was an accident," Elliot tried, scrubbing a hand over his face and moving back a few paces. "Jesus she had a dislocated shoulder, I didn't-"

"Ma'am was he hurting you?" The man cut Elliot off, holding a hand up to silence him and crouching down to her level. "Do we need to call the police?" He gave her his full attention.

Olivia's damp eyes moved from the diner employee to Elliot, the sun blinding her vision as she blew out a heavy bout of pain.

"Ma'am?" He pressed.

"No.. I-" she was still struggling to find her breath. "No I'm okay." She breathed out, doing her best to pull herself up the wall with one hand. The man stepped in and helped her up the wall. "Are you sure ma'am?" He tried again. "Are you sure you don't need medical attention?"

"I'll be fine," Olivia assured him. "I just clipped my shoulder when I turned the corner. That's all."

She made direct eye contact with Elliot at that point and the guilt singed through his body. The man waited a few beats, seemingly debating whether or not to bow out but finally making the decision that he was somewhat satisfied.

"I'll just be inside if you need," he informed Olivia before turning towards Elliot and giving him a look.

When they found themselves alone Elliot's focus moved back to Olivia, her breath still coming out in uneven pants as she pinned him down with her stare.

"Liv, I'm so sorry," he stepped forward. "Let me take a look-"

"Don't you fucking dare." She rasped firmly, still clutching her arm, every part of her looking shattered.

"Liv, it could be-"

"I don't want to see you again." She cut him off with her words. "You got that?" She let the statement hang between them like a verbal barrier and he wasn't sure he had ever seen her look so hurt. "Ever." She paused to swallow, making sure her words were sinking in. "You try to follow me, you so much as _touch_ me again and I _will_ call the police Elliot." She let out a breath.

"I'm done."

There was no time for apologies, no time for lamenting or for goodbyes, just gravel crunching beneath her feet, telling him she was leaving.

And he let her go.

It broke his heart.

But it was all he could do.

He let her go.

 **TBC**

* * *

 _AN: For anyone concerned, there is a plan in place. Trust me._ _Sidebar: Imagine if this chapter ended with 'The End'. I'm pretty sure I'd be fired._

 _Better this way?_

 _X_


	29. Chapter 29

_AN: Thank you so much for your reviews and your continued interest in the story!_

 _I_ _'m glad you're finding it intriguing/original (albeit it ridiculous and outlandish lol)._

 _Hopefully from this chapter you can rest assured that it's not quite over yet.._

* * *

Olivia stared out the bus window, her fingers loosely clutching the crumpled envelope in hand. It was the first opportunity she had to let the effects of the past hour finally catch up to her and it was hitting home like a punch to the gut.

' _I'm done.'_

The emotion began rapidly pouring out of her, silently spilling down her cheeks. She knew she couldn't break – _truly break_ – until she was well beyond the outskirts of Ohio. The last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself on this crowded bus but she let herself have this moment - allowed the silent tears to line her face like streaks of rain after a paralysing drought.

No part of her could believe this was her reality – wedged against a bus window, waiting for the engine to roar into life so she could endure a 14 hour journey back to the city. She watched the passengers board from the sidewalk before her gaze extended to the distance where she made out the phone booth.

' _Don't make the call until you get to the city.'_

The fact that he was effectively asking her to allow her manhunt to continue for yet another 14 hours was sickening. The guilt had a tangible hold on her chest at that point but she knew the consequences of the alternative was not an option.

' _Did you really expect me to cause your death?'_

Words from another time rung out in her ears, like jagged pieces of a puzzle that no longer fit into her current reality. Wasted man-hours was one thing, but the guilt of causing his death was another.

' _Give my regards to Jackie.'_

She scrubs a hand over her face, regret culminating at the memory of her fury spilling out in a crowded diner. God knows if that outburst had consequences and if he'll need to put additional measures in place now. More than likely, he'd probably dodge that bullet, something that seemed effortless for him now. Elliot Stabler - _damage control._ The man could have a PHD in it by now. Ironic that she was the one worried for _his_ safety when it was clear he was the invincible one.

' _Don't make the call.'_

She shook her head. She was so incredibly furious that he still seemed to have this power over her. Even well after the man had left her life he was still seemingly controlling it from afar. But most of all, she was angry at herself. For _allowing_ it, for getting so wrapped up in the _'Elliot Stabler Shit Show'_ in the first place.

' _For better or worse.'_

She could have left that night at the gas station with Tony. She could have left after the accident. She could have left so - _many_ \- _goddamn_ \- times and yet something kept her here against all of her best judgment and sensibility.

 _And for what?_ So she could sit here days later, cramped in an uncomfortable seat, no better off.

He was an asshole.

A _fucking_ asshole.

But she was the bigger asshole.

She hated the decision she had made to stay.

Just as much as she hated the decision she had made to leave.

Her eyes dropped down to her lap realizing she was still wearing Jackie's t-shirt that was a size too small, a pair of her 'larger' jeans that were too snug and a random oversized hoodie that she'd taken from the suitcase they'd found in the trunk. She couldn't wait to get out of these clothes.

She couldn't wait to get out of this _town_.

"Are you going all the way?" A voice to her left startled her and she looked up to see a trucker in a cap holding a giant bag of Doritos. She quickly wiped away her tears and beneath her nose doing her best to pull herself together. He was blocking the aisle, staring down at her as he continued to munch on his chips. She had been hoping the bus wouldn't be full but as she sat up and looked around she could see the majority of the seats were now taken. She watched him sling his bag up on the rack above her row and take the seat beside her without so much as an invitation or another look in her direction.

He dusted the chips on his knee before he held out his hand for her to shake it.

"Dustin," he gave her a sideways smile. "My friends call me Dusty."

She doesn't take it, hoping he will get the message that she isn't interested in conversing with anyone on this trip, let alone touching them. When she doesn't return the handshake he moves his hand away, instead snapping the cap of his Fanta taking a large draw before he wedges it back into the seat pocket. He lets out an obnoxious 'ahhh' sound informing her and the entire bus that he is refreshed before he stretches out in his seat, his knee absently knocking the side of hers.

"So The Big Apple." He turns towards her. "You going all the way?"

Olivia sighs, already feeling this man has said more than enough words to her. She moves her knee so they're no longer touching, trying to figure out the best way to diffuse the conversation for good.

' _Don't talk to anyone.'_

She turns to look out the window, wishing at that moment she had purchased book or some ear buds at that convenience store so she could at least bury herself in a distraction for the remainder of the trip, but all she had with her was a bottle of water and a sheet of painkillers.

Perhaps she could take a handful and knock herself out..

"I'm getting off in Philly." Dusty continued in the absence of her response.

"Listen - Dustin is it?" She asked, her voice a little horse from her emotional release earlier.

"Dusty," he corrected her with a smile.

"Dusty…I'm running on zero hours sleep here so you'll have to excuse me. I'm going to get some shut eye."

He held up his hands in defence. "Say no more. I know how long these trips can be, I myself have just come off a 12 hour.."

His words tapered off when he saw her irate expression staring back at him before he silently went back to his bag of chips.

She turned then, distant sounds of passengers filtering through the isles as she grabbed her hood and tugged it over her head. She leant against the hard surface of the window and closed her eyes. The vibrations of the bus giving her a slight headache as she willed herself to sleep, praying she would miraculously fall unconscious and wake up on the other side of this nightmare.

She moved the envelope containing her bus ticket transfers and cash into the hoodie pocket closest to the window just as the bus started to pull away from the curb. The bus driver rattled off the details of their impending journey and she found her eyes slipping open once more, watching the gas station diner slowly leave her line of vision.

She wondered then, if Elliot was watching that very moment, ensuring she was leaving his life for good, or if he was already half way back to his white picket fence existence, content in the knowledge that she was as good as gone.

* * *

Elliot's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the bus pull away from the diner, the reality of the situation hitting him like a freight train.

His fingers flexed against the steering wheel, itching – fidgeting. _Follow her_. Stop. _Follow her_. Don't.

He doesn't know anymore. He just doesn't know.

 _Fuck!_

He doesn't think he's ever felt this conflicted in his entire life. But he knows made the right decision, that's all he can think. He will thank himself in the coming days even if it feels like his goddamn chest is ripping to pieces at the concept of each and every mile that was currently being put between them.

A blipping sound comes from the burner phone in his console and he lifts it up.

 ** _JACKIE CELL:_**

 ** _Is it done?_**

He stares back at the message blowing out a heavy breath before he opens it up to reply.

He begins to type his answer just as he sees a second message come through.

 ** _JACKIE CELL:_**

 **Elliot? Is it done?**

He looks up from his phone then, just in time to catch sight of a red car pulling out of a car space across from the diner and he does a double take.

A cold chill wracks through his body as he sees the familiar New York City number plate.

His stomach braces.

It's the same car from the warehouse. The same vehicle he'd used to make plenty of drops in his time. The same car that was now following Olivia Benson.

 _Mother-fucking-fuck!_

* * *

 **TBC**


	30. Chapter 30

_AN: The pole has spoken! Thank you for your votes - it was a close one. But here you go!_

 _So sorry this is short but I'm knee deep in Ripples right now_ _*side eyes*_

 _Back soon. X_

* * *

The first rest stop was a Denny's just outside of Columbus, Ohio.

Olivia looked up just as the driver announced they had exactly twenty minutes to visit the restroom and grab food before they'd be taking off again. She glanced at the faded restaurant sign that was in dire need to restoration and let out a heavy, deflated sigh.

 _20 minutes._

No exceptions.

She made eye contact with Dusty who didn't appear to be making any motions to move, just absently staring at the seat straight ahead. She gave him the indication that she wanted to get up, her eyes motioning towards the front.

He started looking around at all the scattered items on his lap - phone, chargers, half empty bags of chips and he stood up, grasping all the contents before a charger chord fell down on the seat.

She got up and moved quickly past him.

She didn't need food, she didn't even need the toilet at that point, what she did need was to get some personal space. It had boarded on two hours already and her cramped limbs were aching from spending so much time in the foetal position.

She couldn't believe it had only been two hours.

 _12 more to go.._

She didn't know how she was going to survive this trip when she could barely sleep more than 10 minutes at a time.

She headed past the bus driver, a bout of fresh air filling her lungs as she exited the bus, nausea beginning to permeate from being suddenly upright. She figured she would wash up, refill her water bottle, grab a bag of trail mix and take some more painkillers, hopefully then she could get some shut eye on the next leg of this trip.

When she entered the rest stop bathroom she made a beeline for the basin and began to run the water. She could already do with a shower and felt a sudden need to brush her teeth. She splashed a generous amount of water on her face one handed, careful to angle herself so she wouldn't anger her shoulder before cupping her hand under the spray and drinking in a few sips before she reached up for a paper towel.

She blinked through her damp lashes as she blindly felt for paper towels, that's when she caught sight of a reflection in the stained, foggy, barely-reflective mirror, her eyes widening at the presence.

But it was too late, there were hands over her mouth before she could stop them, a stab of pain shooting through her shoulder as she was dragged forcibly backwards and into a stall. Her heart thumped in her chest, her feet skidding across the floor, her futile scream getting muffled underneath a palm. She knew if she tried to wretch within their hold, she'd tear more than just a ligament, so she submitted - rendering herself completely and entirely still.

 **TBC**

* * *

 _AN: Alexa play 'Who can it be now?' by Men at Work.._


	31. Chapter 31

_AN: Thank you for your patience and for all of your kind reviews!_ _This chapter is dedicated to drmelindawarner who won the twitter emoji prize! You killed it girl._ _I made this extra long and_ _juicy_ _just for you. Also a shout out to TeaDreamer who wanted me to bring the romance back._ _. here tis!_

* * *

" _It's me-it's me-it's me."_

She hears a voice from behind her whisper and her eyes snap open against the back of the bathroom door as she breathes deeply beneath his palm. His hand is still clamped firmly over her mouth, his other hand wrapped around her waist.

"They found us." He whispers against the back of her head in a shaken breath followed by. "They're coming."

She can feel it before it happens, the door to the bathroom bursting open and her stomach lurches at the sound of hard boots thudding against cement.

She holds her breath as Elliot nudges her around his body until he's created a shield between her and the door. She's wedged between his back and the lip of the toilet, her vision blocked by his shoulders as the boots come to a stop directly in front of their stall.

Her heart is hammering as she feels Elliot draw the gun from the back of his jeans and holds it up against the bathroom stall door.

Then she counts ..1..2..3 and a single shot is fired.

A body falling heavily to the ground with a thud.

* * *

There is no time to think.

He had taken the shot so effortlessly - without thought, without pretence, without solid proof of who it actually was and he was already unlocking the stall, knocking the gun from the limp body with his foot and moving towards the sink.

She watches him grasp a handful of paper towels and start to rub off his fingerprints from all the door handles. She can tell he's done this before and when their eyes meet briefly he motions to the gun on the ground.

"Grab it," he tells her in a rasp and she moves downward, grasping the gun from the corner of the room and instinctively checking the clip _– 5 rounds_. She steps towards him, holding it out to him by the barrel but he motions with a head tilt.

"It's yours."

They lock eyes for a split second and something flickers within her.

He moves to the exit then, his gun is positioned low in his hand as he motions for her to join him.

"Run to the right, straight to the car - don't stop." He whispers back to her, then he does a quick scan left to right, before he is moving her through the doorway and they're making a beeline towards his SUV.

Her heart thuds in her chest, expecting bullets to come pelting through the air at any moment and rip through their backs. She clutches the gun in her palm, a wealth of comfort from the feel of it alone and they make it to the car unscathed.

He rounds to the drivers seat as her shaking fingers open the passenger car door. He turns the engine over with force, his hand moving behind her seat as he pulls the car violently into reverse just as she catches another man racing towards a red vehicle.

The SUV careens out of the bus stop entrance and they hit the highway with force, tyres screeching as she lurches forward, Elliot gaining speeds that rival the night of the trailer. Her breathing is scattered and erratic and flashbacks of their former life hit her sideways.

"Can you still see them?" He calls out and her eyes immediately flit to the rear-view mirror.

"No," she whispers, thankful they managed a head start.

"If you see them," he clears his throat. "Shoot."

She blinks against the adrenaline as her eyes remain fixed to the side mirror, expecting at any minute a flash of red to enter her eye line.

She watches cement highway disappear in the background unable to comprehend that she is back here – _with him_ and when she finally chances a glance in his direction they lock eyes.

She doesn't know if it's the adrenaline or the nostalgia or the flashbacks but an overwhelming feeling takes a hold and there is no avoiding it.

She realises that despite their circumstance, despite their history – despite it all, she wouldn't choose to be anywhere else right now.

Except here.

 _With her partner._

* * *

He pulls into a parking lot of a motel that looks similar to the ones you'd expect to see off the beaten track and bout of familiarity foods through her, only this time it feels different. She's still reeling over her earlier revelation, that she doesn't actually want to _leave_ , she doesn't actually want this to _end_ and she can't escape the feeling that it's to do with the piece of metal she's clutching on her lap.

He'd given her back her safety.

He'd given her his trust.

He'd given her equality.

She finally had her partner back.

And now she wasn't quite sure she was ready to let him go.

Elliot's eyes had been glued to the rearview mirror for the entire duration of their short trip but it was now that they were stopped outside motel a room with a chipped doorframe that he turns to her.

They lock eyes and he takes in her altered demeanor.

"You okay?"

She blinks back at him unable to believe how familiar he seems to her now as if a switch had been flicked and they had been catapulted back into their past. He's staring at her oddly and she knows her face must house a mixture of shock, nostalgia and confusion as she tries to gather her bearings.

A few beats pass before she finally looks away.

"I'm going to get us a room," he whispers to the side of her face and then she feels him starting to move closer, her gaze shifting in surprise to his unexpected proximity as he draws closer, their foreheads practically knocking as he grasps the envelope that's sticking out of her hoodie pocket.

"We need to be off the road.. out of sight." He tells her, slipping a $100 note out of the packet.

He hands the envelope back to her through two clasped fingers and she just stares at him, slowly reclaiming it – a thousand questions moving through her mind but not one of them coming to the forefront. He holds her stare for a few more beats until he is opening the car door and heading towards the lobby.

He returns moments later and she catches his reflection in the side mirror as he grasps a bag from the trunk that looks unfamiliar to her. She clicks off her seatbelt and they walk down the long line of rooms until they come to door 121.

He hands her a plastic key from the packet before inserting his own and for a moment she thinks he's booked them separate rooms but he's opening the door and gesturing for her to enter first.

She steps forward, a stale stench of cigarettes and a bout of flashbacks from their evening on the road hitting her full force as she looks around the room.

But this time it feels different.

There are two beds.

 _Not one._

He locks the door behind them and she hears him drop his bag on the table. She slowly slips the key into her back pocket and she feels him walk up behind her.

She already feels unprepared for what he's about to say.

"I don't know how long we'll be here," he whispers from behind. "Distance doesn't seem to matter to these guys. Staying local could actually throw them off. I'm going to drive the car a little ways down the road, park it by the row of shops in town. I've got a change of plates in the trunk. I'm gonna switch them over. I'll drive you to the city Liv, I promise." He whispers, the words exhaling against the back of her neck. "But they'd expect us to be on the road tonight, so it's the last place we should be."

She turns around at that point and just looks at him.

She's still unable to believe she's adding yet another moment in time that Elliot Stabler has saved her life. She's still trying to reconcile the feelings culminating within, the gun – the spare room key, the absence of Jackie, the amount of information he just divulged to her and the fact that he is now planning on driving her to New York. But what she's struggling with the most, is the concept that Elliot Stabler is standing in front of her, when moments ago she had left the memory of his inevitable death at a bus stop in Ohio.

He's still looking at her strangely and maybe it's the exhaustion or the residual painkillers or the fact that she has a piece of metal wedged in the back of her jeans but she doesn't think too much about it, she steps forward. She feels his sharp intake of breath as she pulls him into a hug, wrapping her good arm around his neck, tugging his chest against hers.

She doesn't know why she's doing it but he embraces her immediately, a hand coming up and pressing between her shoulder blades. He's holding her firmly and she closes her eyes, her face sinking into the juncture of his chest. He feels warm, a sheen of sweat lining his flushed skin and she can feel his heartbeat thudding against her chest.

"Liv I know the last place you want to be is _here_ with me and I'm sorry," he whispers, his breath hitting her neck when he speaks, his voice taking on a low tone as he holds her. "I panicked, I saw the car. I didn't mean to grab you like _that_ , I know it would have hurt. I feel like all I've done is hurt you. I just couldn't risk it.. I couldn't -"

"Stop talking."

She can't listen to his words or his excuses, or his promises, or his plan, she's too exhausted to be angry anymore.

Distant sounds from the road to filter through their paper-thin walls as she tries to imagine a different time. She pictures the maternity ward and the church hall but this is so painfully and irrevocably different, too much time and trauma has severed them both from their former selves for it to ever be what it once was. She hears the sound of him swallowing against the crown of her head as if he knows it too.

"I'm sorry Liv," he whispers unevenly, as if their feelings had been redundant the moment they collided in that warehouse. Her eyes start to water, she still feels residual anger trapped within the confines of her chest but it's emotion that's taking a hold, causing her throat to close up. She presses her eyes closed as unavoidable tears start to spill down her cheeks and seep into the material of his t-shirt splaying outwards like an ink stain.

She tries to will the tears back down but they're only escalating so she moves out of his space, his hands reluctantly dropping from his hold as she steps away because she cannot do this, she cannot break down in Elliot Stabler's arms.

"Ah you should… you should move the car." She tells him, her voice cracking slightly as she wipes her eyes, swallowing back the emotion. She tries to keep her expression neutral, hoping that he will read her well enough to grant her some privacy as he takes in her undoubtedly tear stained face.

"Okay.." His eyes register body language. "There's.." he begins, a little unsure. "There's some spare clothes in the pack if you wanna take a shower.. or lie down."

Her eyes struggle to retain eye contact and he turns away too, scratching his jaw before he is slowly moving towards the door.

She watches him hesitate only slightly before he back turns around and they lock eyes once more, her heart beginning to thrum in her chest at the prospect of what he will say to her.

But as a few moments pass something flickers and it's as if he thought better.

"Lock the door behind me Liv," he tells her in a near whisper. "I'll be right back."

* * *

 _AN: Pop Quiz: What happens in horror movies when they say they'll be right back?_

 **TBC**


	32. Chapter 32

_AN: Thank you for your kind words. And sorry for the shit stirring._

* * *

Olivia blinks under the downpour, allowing every square inch of her body to soak under the spray, her hands holding the tiled wall for support as bus grime, muscular tension and dry tears disappear down the drain beneath her feet.

She waits to breakdown.

She waits for the tears to spill openly.

She waits to slide down into a crumpled heap on the floor.

She waits to feel something.

Anything.

 _Nothing._

Funny that.

It's the first time she's truly been alone, free to scream to the Goddamn heavens if she so chooses to and yet all she feels is weight. A tangible mass that starts at the top of her breastbone and ends at her solar plexus. A heaviness that locks her in, traps her in place and she simply stands there, sedately silent, blinking under the spray as if the past 72 hours hadn't occurred.

She thinks about Elliot.

She thinks about the hug.

She expects to at least feel a sense of regret at showing her weakness, but she knows in the coming days when they eventually part ways it will be the last real memory she has of him.

And it sure beats his ghost.

* * *

She switches off the water.

She had been in the shower for a good while and there was a chance he was knocking on the motel room door, waiting for her to unlock the latch.

When she hears nothing but outside traffic filtering through the walls she steps out of the shower and grasps a thin, thread-bear towel off the shelf.

She catches herself in the mirror, her pale complexion flushed from the heat while dark circles verandah her eyes. She traces the marks on her throat from Elliot, running her fingers down the raised flesh, goosebumps breaking out across her skin at the memory. She shivers before she lets her eyes trail lower, taking in the burns on her breasts - the ones from Lewis, just below Elliot's.

She looks away.

The tightness in her chest overtaking as she presses her eyes closed, trying to dispel the entangled images. Her shaking hands reach for her clothing as emotions from their duel memories hit her full force. She hurriedly gets dressed, putting on the same bra but a clean shirt she had grabbed from Elliot's new pack. She slips it over her head but realizes it's one of those gym tanks that dip low in the front and falls well beneath her under arms.

She turns in the mirror, catching the side of her bra visible through the shirt. She contemplates putting the soiled t-shirt back on from the bus trip but she can't handle wearing something dirty to sleep. She also can't bear putting the same underwear on at this point so she slips his sweat pants over her naked lower half and bunches her panties under the spray of the tap.

She soaps them with the bar from the sink until she's rinsing them clean, twisting them out and hanging them up on the shower rail with her good arm, knowing she'll be thankful to have clean underwear tomorrow.

That's when she hears it.

A sound.

She stills in place, trying to figure out if Elliot was back and if so how he got in with the bolt shut. She takes one last look at herself in the mirror, tugging the front of his tank up her chest before it irritatingly falls back down. She sighs moving towards the bathroom door and twisting the handle hesitantly, half expecting him to be sitting on the bed staring back at her.

All she finds is an empty room.

She looks around in confusion as she steps out, the air around her deathly quiet as she pads towards the front door. She checks the bolt is still latched before she looks through the peephole but is faced with nothing but street lamps and darkness. The sun had only just set when she entered the bathroom so she knows Elliot can't be far off.

She makes her way over to the bed, choosing the one the furthest from the front door and she looks around the room one final time before she slips beneath the sheets. She turns onto her good side, wincing at the tug of her sore shoulder as she tries to get into a comofrtable position. She draws the covers up her chest as her eyes rest on the motel room window.

She watches the curtains dance slowly before her and her tummy rumbles unexpectedly beneath the sheets.

She'll just close her eyes for a bit, she thinks, because Elliot will be back any minute.

 _Any minute_ _,_ she thinks.

* * *

 **TBC**


	33. Chapter 33

Olivia wakes up to a sharp pain radiating through her shoulder.

She must have turned in her sleep because the pain was now pulsating down the full length of her arm. She winces, her sleep-filled eyes blinking against the darkness, confused for a moment as to where she was. She takes in a few weighted breaths before her gaze settles on the bedside clock.

 _9:27pm_

She remembered closing her eyes somewhere around the 8 o'clock mark and as she takes in his untouched bed she tries to ward off any sense of panic at his prolonged absence.

She sits up, careful not to rest any weight on her shoulder as she pads to the bathroom.

She takes in her reflection once more as she pools a handful of water in her palm, splashing it on her face, feeling groggy and dehydrated as if she had just stepped off a long haul flight. She fills a plastic cup with water and drains several cups of liquid, her mind reeling at the concept that he has been gone a full hour and a half.

She moves back out into the main room, grasping the bag on the motel table and searching through it until she finds his case of toiletries. She unzips the bag to find spray deodorant, a toothbrush, toothpaste and a canister of painkillers. She sprays the deodorant under her arms, the scent of her partner hitting her full force until she does a double take, inspecting the label inundated by sensory overload, unable to believe he still uses the same deodorant after all these years.

She drops the can back in his bag and notices a small burner phone inside the bag, she flips it open and stares at it for a good moment before she begins to scroll down to the latest message, her heart pounding at what she might find.

 _Jackie:_ _Come home Elliot._

She blinks at the text.

She lets the concept culminate in her chest before drops the phone back in the bag, taking the tube of toothpaste and painkillers to the bathroom, squeezing toothpaste on her finger and brushing across her teeth with her index finger. She takes another sip of water from the cup, swilling it around her mouth before spitting it out, thoughts of Elliot's whereabouts continuing to niggle at her recesses.

He wouldn't have gone back to Jackie's.

Without her.

 _Surely not.._

She pops open the pill bottle, taking a couple of ibuprofen before she hears it.

A sound.

The creek of the floorboard.

It's different to before.

Louder.

 _Closer._

Her eyes flit to the mirror, half expecting to see Elliot's presence standing behind her but she's enveloped in darkness.

She feels a chill of air move up her spine and she waits for the sound to be backed up by another but it's just stillness.

She looks behind her before she slowly moves out to the main room, her eyes immediately landing on the cupboard in the corner where she notices the slits of wood all slanting down.

Then it's four words that pound through her mind.

 _Welcome home Detective Benson._

Her chest hammers irrationally as she steps towards the closet, an unexpected sheen of moisture lining her eyes. She doesn't know why Lewis is in her head and why her illogical mind expects him to be in this motel room. She cannot fathom why her heart is racing a mile at the concept but she can't escape the feeling that she isn't alone.

She moves towards the firearm she had stored in the top draw of the side table, grasping it and padding closer to the wardrobe. She remembers the night of her attack like it was yesterday, the sound she had heard just after she'd set down her groceries on the counter.

It's the same feeling.

Her breath starts to shake, her heart racing as she steps closer, her trembling hand reaching out as she turns the handle forcibly open. She points her shaking weapon into the darkness but all she is greeted with is four loan wire hangers clinking back and forth from the motion.

She swallows, trying to shake off the excess energy pulsing through her body but she's unable to rid the feeling that something is off. She's hot and cold all at once, slick perspiration pooling under her arms as the hairs on the back of her neck stand from the chill in the air. She feels the anxiety start to grip her chest as she steps backwards, colliding forcibly with the bedside table, her slick hand loses hold of her weapon and the metal firearm clatters to the floor.

Then it hits.

She was expecting an intruder on the inside but it's a pounding knock on the outside that rattles her.

Her head to snaps towards the sound.

The knock much louder than it needs to be.

 _That's all she can think._

Elliot wouldn't pound so loudly.

And it was three painstaking seconds until she hears it again.

 _Thump! Thump! Thump!_

 **TBC**


	34. Chapter 34

_AN: Holy shit 700 reviews thank you so much! I appreciate all the love and support with this story!_

Here is an extra long chapter to show my appreciation.

* * *

 _Thump._

 _Thump._

 _Thump._

The noise gets louder and louder.

 _Thump!_

 _Thump!_

 _Thump!_

She doesn't know why it isn't stopping.

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump!

She's twists beneath blankets in a full blown sweat. _Blankets?_ Her eyes snap open against darkness, her breath lodged in the back of her throat.

 _What the hell?_ She's no longer standing vertical but laying horizontal in bed encased in darkness.

Her eyes dart immediately to the clock.

 _8:49pm._

"Olivia," she hears Elliot hiss as the continuous pounding rattles the door.

Thump!

Thump!

Thump!

She scrambles out of the twisted blankets, disorientation hitting her full force as she half trips on the pant leg of his sweats on her pursuit to the door. Her shaky, sweaty hands slip against the bolt, pulling the door open and it's seconds before Elliot is moving through the gap before she barely has it open.

"Goddamn it," he rasps in a whisper. "I was seconds from breaking down the-"

He stops in his tracks when he sees her.

"Jesus." He whispers, taking her in. "What happened?"

She must look in clear distress because her hands are already coming out and grasping the wall for support as she tries to catch her breath. He shuts the door firmly closed, latching the bolt before he drops bags on the table and closes the distance between them. He grasps her upper arms gently, turning her until she's facing him and she swallows against his stare.

"I ah…" she begins, her watery eyes looking every which way but at him. "It's.. I ah.. I'm fine."

"Like hell," he whispers, looking down at her. "What happened?" He is holding both her biceps to steady her but she knows he can feel the perspiration beneath his palm. "Liv, you're drenched."

She attempts to create some distance between them, her hands pressing up against the wall of his chest, trying to get him to release her. She feels crowded and panicked and in need of space.

"Liv, what's going on?"

But she can't handle the question, his probing stare or his hands on her inflamed flesh so she tries to push into him again and when he doesn't let up, a pang of irrational fear rocks through her.

"Get off me," she growls suddenly.

His hands slip from her immediately and she stumbles backwards, her demand still reverberating off the walls.

He stares at her in shock.

It must have been a muscle memory trigger - the feeling of being caged, trapped, detained. _Lewis. The trailer._ She drops her shoulders, her consciousness only just beginning to register that it had all been a dream, that there is no threat in this room.

She tries to figure out what to say when his eyes fall down to her attire, she looks down to see his tank is hanging low, her cleavage streaked with sweat, the tops of her lace bra visible. She turns away from him then suddenly feeling incredibly exposed, dragging the top up her body.

"Liv," he says shakily to her back. "Talk to me. Did something happen? Was someone here?"

She shakes her head, all of a sudden terribly embarrassed at her behaviour, he wasn't trying to detain her, he was just keep her upright so she didn't have to use the wall to stand.

"No one was here Elliot," she whispers. "I'm fine."

"You're dripping in sweat," he rasps. "And you're shaking. You're not fine."

She feels him step forward again and she moves away immediately, raising her hands indicating she doesn't want to be touched.

"Just stop," she whispers mostly to herself, pressing her eyes closed, unable to face him as she makes her way to the bathroom.

"It was just a dream," she tells herself. "Just a dream."

* * *

When she reemerges from the bathroom she finds Elliot perched on the edge of his bed.

He lifts his head to meet her stare and she holds it for a few beats until she is stepping further into the room.

She sucks in a breath, not wanting to engage in conversation but equally determined to play damage control. She had caught the look in his eyes and he had seen her clear as day. PTSD. _Victim_. She had showed all the signs. Similar to her response to him in the trailer, yet there was no imminent danger in this room.

Just him.

 _Get off me!_

She sucks in a breath. She just needs to make it through the next few days until they get to the city, she cannot afford another breakdown in front of him.

She slowly takes a seat next to him on his bed, keeping a generous distance between them.

"I was having a nightmare Elliot, so your pounding.. I got confused."

 _That's all she has._

It doesn't really explain it but it's enough to take the edge off.

He is staring straight ahead as she rubs her sore shoulder moving it around gently to try and loosen up the joint, thankful for the fact that she's no longer dripping in sweat. She had towelled herself off in the bathroom, pressing a cold washer over her face, neck and chest until her body temperature settled down.

"Where were you anyway?" She asks to his silence, using the opportunity to shift the focus onto his prolonged departure.

Her mind had done the math, there wasn't a great deal of time to do much more than drop the car, switch the plates and walk back but there was still time unaccounted for.

"Parking the car in town.. like I told you," he whispers, looking over at her then, concern still present when they lock eyes. "I took a little longer because I grabbed a few things."

She hears the hint of defensiveness in his tone and a pang of guilt hits, he was finally being honest with her and it looked like she was still questioning him.

He was waiting for her to back up her accusation when her eyes simply moved towards the bags on the table and she motions towards them with the tilt of her chin.

"What did you get?"

When he just continues to stare at her she uses the excuse to get up.

She sifts through the items, feeling his eyes on her profile as she discovers a new toothbrush, a travel sized toothpaste, a stick of women's deodorant and a pink razor and her lips lift into a smile.

"You trying to tell me something Elliot?"

He still doesn't respond so she moves onto the second bag to find a bag of trail mix, two snickers bars, two 1.5L bottles of bottles water and two orange Gatorades. _Are you planning a hike?_ She nearly says but thinks better of it. She finally moves to the third bag that contains two styrofoam containers stacked on top of one another with plastic cutlery and napkins scattered on top.

She looks over at him quizzically.

"What did you get?"

He stands up then.

"Dinner." He tells her bluntly as he passes her.

Before she has a chance to enquire further he's moving through the bathroom door and clicking it closed.

* * *

She eyes the closed door.

She doesn't know if it's his lack of belief in her story, concern over her reaction or annoyance at her accusation of his whereabouts but there is a weighted tension now.

She grasps a water from the bag and twists off the cap, taking a large swig before her eyes do a double take, realising he had left his wallet and phone on the bed. Her focus moves back to the shopping bags, trying to ignore the presence of his forgotten items but it's the message from her dream that she can't get out of her head.

 _Come Home Elliot._

Her fingers itch to find out.

She hears the sink in the bathroom running so she moves hurriedly, grabbing the phone and clicking into the latest message stream.

 ** _JACKIE CELL: Is it done?_**

 ** _JACKIE CELL: Elliot? Is it done?_**

Her eyebrows furrow. The timing is consistent with her bus departure and when she see no response from Elliot she flicks to his recent call history to find an outgoing call to Jackie at 8:10pm for 20 seconds.

She looks at the motel clock.

 _8:55pm_

She doesn't know why she's doing it but she picks up his wallet, flicking through old diner receipts and gas stubs, a few crumpled dollar bills and an ID, hoping to find more missing pieces to the puzzle. She removes the ID from it's pocket and she takes in the photo of Elliot above William Chase's name.

The bathroom door opens suddenly and he sees her.

"Seriously Liv." He stalks up to her. "We back here now?" He grabs items out of her hand but he seems more frustrated than angry. "Why don't you stop with the speculation for 5 minutes and have something to eat?"

Her eyes fall down to his bare chest and she can see a dark red patch seeping through the bandage.

"You're bleeding," she notes.

"I know," he mutters in frustration. "I must have busted a stitch."

She moves closer, attempting to inspect the bandage when he lightly grasps her wrist.

"It's fine Liv," he whispers. "I just need to change the bandage. There are supplies in the bag."

She watches Elliot as he moves towards the bag and pulls out a clear case containing gauze, bandages and ointments.

She thinks about the phone call, the busted stitch, his recent absence.

"Just getting dinner huh," she whispers curiously.

He turns around then and stares at her defensively.

"It happened at the bus station Liv," he explains. "You realise you elbowed me when I grabbed you."

Her eyes drop down once more to the bandage and she notices it's mostly dried blood.

She changes gears.

"Why don't you let me then?" She motions towards the pack. "I caused it - I'll fix it."

He is looking at her strangely, a protest ripe on his lips but something in him must have given in because he was shaking his head and taking a seat in front of her.

She watches him peal off the edge of the bandage in preparation, she had seen Jackie patch him up and it didn't look too difficult.

She takes an alcohol wipe out of the pack, tears off the top and cleans her hands first, watching as he tugs at the edge of the bandage, winching as he only manages to get it quarter of the way off. She kneels down then, moving her body between his legs, her shoulders nudging his legs apart, trying not to think about their awkward positioning.

She bats his hand out of the way, grasping the end of the bandage and starting to peal it off herself. The sticky surrounds lift from his skin and her eyes move up briefly to catch him biting down on his lower lip before she rips it in one clean motion. He makes a stifled guttural sound as she takes in the jagged line on his stomach. She can see it's stitched together neatly except for the left side where a couple of stitches have come loose so she grabs another alcohol wipe, feeling his eyes back on her as she tears the top off the packet.

He must know what's coming then because he is clutching her free forearm in preparation.

"This is going to sting El," she tells him slowly looking at his hand. "Can you grab something else?" It registers for him, he's holding onto bad arm and she doesn't want a repeat performance of the diner alley. He moves his hand off her arm immediately and instead rests it on her waist, bunching the material of his tank into his fist. She ignores the light tingle of his fingers against her side and instead focuses on the wipe in her hand.

She waits a few beats, their eyes locking before she drags it intently across the raised flesh and she doesn't hold back ensuring she covers the entire wound.

He lets out a hiss, her fingers sinking into her waist as he tries to stifle his verbal response. His hands aren't letting up on her so she bends down, blowing against his open wound until it takes the majority of the sting out.

When she moves back up she grasps the antiseptic cream from the pack and begins to twist off the cap.

He is watching her, his fingers still gripping her waist as he studies her intently.

"You can let go El," she tells him, her eyes moving back to his stomach. "This part isn't going to hurt."

He releases her shirt then and she moves forward once more, smoothing the cold cream across his flesh until it's covering the entire gash.

She notices he's still tensing.

'"I know what I'm doing Elliot," she whispers, slightly offended. "You can relax."

She thinks about how trusting he had been with Jackie in front of him yet with her he's half expecting her to elbow him again for good measure.

She is wiping the excess cream off her fingers with a tissue when she says it.

"Lie down."

"What?" He sounds caught off guard.

She looks up at his confused expression.

"The bandage won't tug so much against the skin if I put it on when you're lying down." She explains. "It'll come of more easily too."

When all he does is stare at her with a confused look she presses a hand against his breastbone gently guiding him down. He grabs onto her good arm for support, wincing as she starts to lower him. She moves up on the bed, placing knee on the mattress as she guides him downward with her good arm around his back, careful not to knock his exposed flesh as she lowers him. She holds her breath from the motion, she hadn't expected their bodies to get so close in the process. He grunts a little from the motion and it hits then, just how much pain he must be in.

He settles down against the mattress and she moves back down the bed, careful to keep her weight off him.

"I'll close the side that's come open with butterfly bandages." She tells him slowly, grasping the medical pack once more, locating a strip and starting to peal one off. "It should be enough to keep it together beneath the larger bandage."

"You get a medical license while I was away?" He mumbles in response.

She ignores his comment, placing two butterfly strips on the end of the wound before leaning over him to grasp the large bandage, her hair inadvertently swiping his chest.

"It's not rocket science Elliot," she whispers, their eyes meeting for a split second and she knows what she's doing, it had been a silent dig at Jackie.

She places the large bandage down on his wound, ensuring all parts are covered before she starts to press it down.

She feels him flinch again, as if he's worried she's going to inflict pain but she's careful with her pressure, running her hands gently over the top to ensure all sides of the bandage are flattened and secure.

"You're all done," she whispers slowly and she waits a few beats, knowing full well he's going to need some help sitting up. She bends down again, waiting for him to move his arm back around her neck before she grasps the back of his shoulder and she starts to lift.

"Slow," he grits his teeth as they gently rise and she moves them steadily upward.

When she gets him up into a sitting position, she starts to move away when his hand comes out suddenly, grasping the top of her shirt.

"What's this?" He whispers and she looks down to see his finger brushing the burn on the side of her breast, she freezes for a second, blindsided by the fact that he's touching her so intimately whilst equally panicked about him seeing the scars.

She stands then, his hand falling away from her chest as she turns away. She tugs her top back up, silently berating herself for not changing, realising Elliot would have had a full view down her shirt for that entire exercise. She doesn't respond, instead she goes into cleaning mode, collecting the medical bag and bandage wrappers at his side, moving them all over to the table all the while feeling the warm stare on the side of her face.

"Liv," he stands up slowly, waiting a few beats before he says it. "There are multiple."

She swallows, silently debating how to handle this.

"Great observation Elliot," she turns back to him in a tired whisper. "How bout you spend less time staring at my breasts and more time focused on your own scars."

It's a low blow, she knows it and it's redundant because he isn't going to back down, not after what he saw.

"Please just talk to me," he whispers.

She shakes her head then, looking away with a humourless smile.

"You first," she whispers, before she returns his stare, motioning towards the jagged scar to the left of his abdomen that she had seen it in the trailer, the one that started at his ribcage and disappeared into his jeans.

"What happened Elliot?"

She knows he didn't want to talk about it then and she's pretty sure he isn't going to want to talk about it now.

Her suspicions are confirmed when she sees him look away, his body language shifting, his defences rising.

"Didn't think so," she whispers to his silence.

She's moving over to the table then, seizing the bag of toiletries he had bought her and she pauses in front of him.

"Thank you for these," she tells him genuinely before she continues towards the bathroom, stopping only when she gets to the threshold.

"We should get some sleep El," she tells him over her shoulder before she looks back at him. "We've got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow."

 **TBC**


	35. Chapter 35

_AN: Wow, thank you so much for your reviews! I really do appreciate the detail you all leave of what you feel, want to see and how it effects you, some reviews have even reminded me of things that need attention and others have actually altered the direction I take the fic in so thank you, they are truly_ _a motivating force and really spur me on to write more._ _I hope you enjoy this chapter I've been waiting so long to get us to this point but p_ _robably not as long as you guys have all been waiting to read it haha._

* * *

Olivia brushes her teeth with the newly bristled toothbrush, thankful for the opportunity to remove the gunk from the past couple of days with more than her finger and Jackie's toothpaste. She starts to scrub her tongue for good measure before she is filling her mouth with water and swilling it around, wanting to rid the taste of the past few days completely.

She spits the remainder of toothpaste into the sink, bending purposefully over the sink, her eyes taking in her cleavage in the reflection, trying to gauge just how much he would have seen. She moves closer to the mirror, to get the perspective of his view, her finger brushing over the burn he had felt trying to ascertain if it was obvious to the touch.

When her eyes lift back up to hers, she has her answer.

It wasn't just a few bruises and **nicks** , it was a purposeful, circular burn.

 _Multiple._

She knows Elliot would have registered what it was, there would have been no chance of mistaking it given their line of work.

It was a cigarette burn.

Clear as day.

She takes a step back feeling a wave of uneasiness hit at the concept. She catches sight of her black panties still hanging from the shower rod in the process and she stares at them for a few moments. She knows he would have seen them when he came in here and a pang of uneasiness hits. Her eyes move back to her reflection, suddenly feeling starved for privacy, desperately seeking solitude, just needing to get through the next 48 hours with out a full blown breakdown.

She had seen the look in his eyes.

She can't seem to escape this.

 _She can't escape him._

She recognises the anxiety beginning to bubble in her chest and tries to settle her nerves, flexing her fingers outward and into fists before she attempts to shake off the excess energy, a technique she learnt in therapy. She knows she's already been in here for far too long so after a few deep breaths she finally gathers enough strength to open the bathroom door and walk back into the unknown.

* * *

She emerges from the ensuite to find him propped up against the headboard of his bed.

She notices the main lights have been dimmed and it's only the bedside lamp illuminating the room now. She walks past him on her pursuit to her bed, silently thankful for the obscurity of darkness but the relief doesn't last long.

"Liv."

She stops short, their eyes meeting through the darkness and her stomach braces.

A few beats pass before her eyes drop down to the opened styrofoam container on his lap before her eyes move back up to his. She watches lights from the muted TV dance across his face and she can feel it, he's about to say something but he must have gauged her body language or the look in her eyes because something within him shifts.

"Can you throw me the medical pack please?"

She continues to stare at him as he takes a bite of his dinner, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion when she sees him eating a club sandwich.

 _It's 10pm.._

She takes the few steps towards the table, picking up the pack and tossing it to him as he catches it one handed.

"Thanks."

"Did I miss a spot?" She asks concerned.

He looks up at her and he gives her a small smile.

"No." He whispers. "Can you bring your sandwich over here too please?"

She does a double take at that one, looking over at the lone takeaway container before she collects it and slowly walks it over to his bedside.

She holds it out to him curiously.

"You gonna eat mine too?" She asks with a look, thankful for the distraction from their earlier subject.

He doesn't take it, just motions to the space in front of him as he pulls out a tube of cream from the pack.

"Sit." He tells her. "Eat." He whispers.

Her eyes fall down to the icy hot cream, her stomach beginning to spiral once more.

"I ah.. I just brushed my teeth."

He doesn't respond, just picks up his sandwich with his other hand and takes a bite.

"And my shoulder's fine El." She lies.

"It's swollen Liv," he says through a mouthful. "I saw you today, you've spent the whole day keeping your weight off it. This will help you sleep."

He pauses before something ticks over in his mind.

"When was the last time you had painkillers?"

"I don't know." She tries to recall. "The bus maybe." But she soon realises she never had the chance at the bus station.

"This morning," she corrects herself. "Back at the house."

"You're supposed to take them every 4 to 6 hours" He tells her. "It will reduce the swelling and the pain."

He tosses her the ibuprofen and she catches it just in time.

"Did you get you medical license while you were away?" She says jokingly.

He doesn't respond to her humour, just continues to chew on his mouthful before he takes another bite.

"You're not going to shower?" She asks curiously, noticing he's changed into sweat pants that look identical to hers.

He motions down to the bandage on his stomach. "And ruin your handy work?"

He is just waiting now, icy hot still in hand as he continues to eat.

It's obvious she's the one stalling, but she's still stuck on the sweatpants, she knows him well enough to know he sleeps in briefs and she wonders if he's covering up for her benefit. He sees her looking at his pants.

"Why do you want me to shower Liv?" He sighs. "Are you planning on going through my stuff again?"

The air between them stills.

She watches him take another measured bite of his sandwich before her eyes fall down to the wallet and phone still resting by his feet.

"I called her Olivia…" he explains, to her bowed head. "To tell her we've been made. The cabin wasn't safe anymore. I figured splitting up would be best for us all," he waits until he gains her eye contact before he finishes. "Wouldn't you agree?"

She can tell he is watching the information register on her face, particularly the last part, but the hint of accusation in his tone hadn't escaped her. She feels a wave of guilt hit at her lack of trust in him but it was Elliot's evasiveness that had caused her to question him in the first place.

She recalls the text messages from Jackie.

 _Is it done?_

Her eyes slowly move between his, not sure she is ready to open this can of worms but feeling a sudden push to say it.

"So is it done?" She whispers slowly.

It's his turn to stay silent.

"Getting me on that bus?" She whispers, trying to keep her tone level headed and non-accusatory. "I assume that was your job.. so did you get it done?"

She knows she's being extremely passive aggressive and he just stares at her as tension moves between them like a tangible mass.

"You're clearly not on the bus Olivia." He says sternly without breaking eye contact. "So why don't you ask me the real question?"

She knows anything she could ask right now will only make her look petty and argumentative so she turns away with a sigh, ready to drop this before it's even began.

He doesn't let her.

"Jackie.. _like me_ ," he says to her back, "agreed that it was too risky for you to stay at the cabin. You needed to make that call to the precinct Olivia, that's what you kept telling me. We couldn't let you do it from a bus station in Ohio.. so that is why we're here."

 _We._

She turns around at that point and he pauses.

"You're right," she shakes her head, a sudden bout of rationalisation taking over. "And in a couple of days, none of this will matter, so whatever you two have cooked up is really none of my business."

Annoyance masks his face as he drops his sandwich down in it's container.

"This isn't a conspiracy Olivia. I'm not hiding anything. Ask me what you want to ask.. and I'll answer."

She drags the comforter down at that point, ignoring him completely but it seems he isn't going to let it rest. She hears the bed creek behind her before she senses movement and when she turns around he is a step away from her.

"Ask me if I'm sleeping with my best friends wife again?" He whispers, his eyes moving back and forth between hers.

Her chest pounds at being put on the spot like this, feeling somewhat cornered between him and the bed.

"The answers still going to be the same." He tells her.

Her heart is thrumming.

"This is about survival Olivia," he whispers. "Nothing more. We're all just trying to get through this and the sooner you realise that, the easier this is going to be for everyone."

A few moments pass between them, there is still so much unspoken but there is something about the look he is giving her that causes her defences to soften.

He holds out the opened water to her then, that's when she realises she's still clutching the pill bottle in her hand and was probably the real reason he got up.

"Take the drugs Liv," he whispers. "Eat some food and either put this on your shoulder…" he lifts the icy hot up to her view. "Or let me do it."

She takes the water from his hands, their fingers brushing lightly as she watches him intently, his sudden honesty and no-nonsense attitude disarming her, she hadn't intended on going there with Jackie but a part of her was glad that he did. She twists the cap of the pill bottle, downing a couple of pills before chasing it with a drag of water and when she sets the bottle down her eyes fall to the cream in his hand. She takes a step around him then, hesitating only momentarily before she is moving towards the opened sandwich box on his bed. She slides it towards her, taking a bite of his half eaten sandwich and sitting down in the place he had indicated earlier.

A few moments pass before her eyes lift up to his.

He makes his way towards her then, showing similar hesitation to her as he moves behind her. He takes a seat, allowing one leg to slip around her body and splaying out on the bed while the other he leaves hanging off the side.

He leans up against the headboard, cream still in hand.

"Do you want to eat first ..before the cream?" He asks to her back.

She shuffles backwards in the space provided, effectively giving him her answer as she eliminates the majority of space between them.

"You got a hair tie?" She hears him ask and he's close now. _Real close._

"No," she says quietly and it isn't long before his hands are in her hair, gathering the strands, a shiver running down her spine as he draws it to one side.

He tries a couple of times but her hair is too short and refuses to stay to without some aid. She moves her good arm upward to help him, capturing the strands as she provides access to her shoulder. She hears the cap go and he is squeezing cream into his palm before the cold liquid hits her skin. He's gentle at first as he lathers the cream clinically across the joint, not limiting himself to her upper arm but spanning the ridge of the shoulder and up the side of her neck before he starts to deepen the rub. He is slow, meticulous and painfully quiet behind her and she feels her body rocking slightly beneath his motions, as ripples of relief begin to flood through her muscles as he presses inward.

She hadn't expected this.

His touch.

Gentle yet firm.

Attentive.

She tries not to focus on the feel, the sounds, the way his thumb presses intimately into a sensitive spot just beneath her neck, causing ripples of relief to run down her spine but her mouth is parting, her breathing starting to waver as she tries to remain as still as possible.

"Tell me if it's too much." He says, pressing a little more firmly into a tight bundle of nerves that causes a welcome relief and it isn't long before she hears the cap go again and that's when he is drawing her arm holding her hair gently downward. He motions her head forward before he lathers cream on her opposing shoulder, careful to avoid the majority of her hair in the process.

"That side's fine El." She whispers, her voice waning beneath the feel of his hands.

"You've redirected all your weight to this side." He explains. "Both sides are effected - all these muscles have seized here." He runs a finger across the long line of her left shoulder blade indicating the problem area and she shivers. "It's no wonder you're in pain. "

She's about to respond when he starts to massage both shoulders simultaneously, his thumbs pressing inward and all protests leave her body. Her eyes slip to a close as a flood of pleasure filled relief moves through her shoulders. Her whole body is rocking against his touch as he kneads the tension from her muscles.

"El," she whispers. "What are you doing?"

"Getting the knots out so you can sleep." He explains as he continues to press inward.

"Is the pressure okay?"

She pauses a beat.

"Yeah," she manages as she tries to stop herself from sinking back into her hands with each stroke.

"When you get to the city, you really need to get this checked out."

He is close now, so close his low tone is reverberating in her ears.

She doesn't open her eyes.

She doesn't respond to what he's saying.

She doesn't want to think about the city right now.

She falls into his movements before she feels him shift his attention upwards as he starts to massage the back of her neck. Two thumbs slide up the column of her neck, applying pressure to the juncture of her nape, gently at first, doing his best to ease the tension before he deepens it.

"Jesus, this is even worse Liv," he whispers as his fingers inadvertently brush her throat.

She doesn't respond, just allows him to smooth out the tension, a mixture pleasure and pain both coursing through her muscles by the second. He starts to move back down her back, over the ridge of her shoulder blades, pressing into the top of her spine, moving lower, lower, until he hits a particularly tense part of her body just above her bra clasp. She bucks a little in response, his thumbs applying pressure to the knot there.

"I know it hurts, I've just have to-"

"Ugh." Olivia lets out, realizing this is where most of her tension had been sitting. "Jesus," she breathes out. _Right there._ She thinks.

He pushes harder then and it's painful and pleasurable at the same time, her eyes slipping open, a pang of heat flooding through her body.

"You need to relax," he whispers as he tries to kneed the tension out.

She swallows.

"I am relaxing." She whispers.

He chuckles at her absurdity, continuing to press against the stubborn bundle of muscles before he momentarily detours, moving down her lower back. His fingers catch on the side of her tank, hitting skin and lace and she feels a rush of heat flood through her. _Fuck._

He reaches her hip bones and presses his thumbs at the base of her spine, her nipples hardening in response and she bites down on her lip.

She hasn't been touched like this in years.

"That's not my shoulders El.." Her throat catches.

A few beats pass as her eyes slip open at his silence.

"I know," he explains. "It's all connected. Trust me."

She thinks about stopping him, cutting this short but his hands are so welcomely easing the tension out of her body she cannot possibly end this just yet.

As he continues pushing inward her chest involuntarily arches in response, the crown of her head knocking his chin and she can feel the heat of his breath coming out in short bursts.

She's turned on.

 _Jesus._

She hadn't expected this.

Not here, not tonight.

Not after everything.

He was just easing the tension from her muscles, he wasn't being particularly sensual with her, if anything he was doing his best to remain clinical.

And yet in a matter of seconds her body was on fire.

He moves his hands slowly back up her spine, stopping once more at the tension filled spot above her bra clasp, moving her forward pushing inward, trying a second time to break it up. His fingers incidentally scrape lace once more, a sound leaving her mouth that's part moan.

 _Right there._ She wants to say. _Harder._

She bows her head forward, remaining silent, hoping her body language will speak for itself as he continues to run his thumbs over it again and again, deepening the pressure. Her nipples are now painfully erect against lace as he digs in and she sinks further back in his hold, not realising there is very little space between them now. She feels his chest against her back, his crotch against her backside as a mixture of ache and pleasure rocks into her.

"Liv," she feels his breath on her neck and her eyes slip open.

It feels like a warning but she can't be sure.

Her mouth is painfully dry.

"Yeah," she tries, her voice breaking, her heart hammering in her chest at what he will say.

"I'm gonna, move your arm behind your back okay?" He informs her and then he is clutching her good arm, moving it behind her at a right angle before he's using his other arm to bring her right up against his chest. She hears a satisfying crack move through her body from the unexpected motion and she lets out a relief filled breath.

 _Jesus Christ._

He begins to do the same with her other arm, far more gentle with it this time given it's her sore shoulder and she waits a few beats before the second crack ripples through her body.

"How do you know how to do this?" She whispers, her breath wavering with undertones of concern.

He takes both arms then, moving both behind her back at right angles until he has them pinned between his chest and her back. He then brings his hand around to her front, until his arms are covering her shoulders in the form of an X.

"I took a class in college," he explains. "Now on the count of 3, breathe out okay. All the way."

He had given her instructions but all she can concentrate on is the way his forearms are pressing against lace as he has her pinned against him. Her heart thuds at their positioning, she expects to feel fear, panic, alarm at the way he is trapping her, she expects to want to launch back in defence but none of those reflexes come to the forefront.

"1…"

He whispers.

"2.."

She sucks in a breath.

"3."

She lets out her breath as he squeezes her body tightly against him, a final crack moving up through her spine and coursing through her body causing her mouth to part in shock. He releases her after a few beats and she sits there blindsided, relief spilling through her limbs as he slowly unravels her arms and lets them gently fall back down to her side. A few beats pass as her mind swarms, her chest pounds and her panty-less lower half throbs beneath her sweats.

"Turn around."

Her mouth runs dry.

She slowly turns, her face most likely flushed from his touch as she faces him. Her breathing is hitched, her eyes must looked glossed over as they do their best to avoid his.

His hands come up as he starts to massage her from front on, his fingers sinking into the tense muscles of her shoulders before he moves down to her collarbones. She watches him curiously as he continues to work her muscles before his hands are moving higher, smoothing up the tight strain in her neck, exploring, tilting her head back and gently around, trying to loosen her muscles from all angles until his fingers are cupping her jawline.

He is close now, _incredibly close_ , her chest is rising and falling as he starts to ease the muscles of her jawline.

Her eyes slip down to his parted lips and she suddenly loses all sensibility, leaning forward and sealing his lips with hers. She holds him for a few beats as he stills against her in surprise, her mouth lightly tugging on his lips before she releases them. She waits a few moments hovering mid air. She doesn't know why she pauses, maybe she's waiting for permission, maybe she's waiting for confirmation but when she catches a hint of nervousness in his eyes, she moves forward once more, pressing her open mouth intimately against his.

He drops his hands from her face and she tilts his head, drawing his lower lip in her mouth and sucking. He moans quietly against her and when she parts his lips once more she slides her tongue determinedly between his lips. It incites a second moan from him, his hand raking through the back of her hair, as he gently nips her lower lip in response. She wants to groan, her body aching to get closer and before she knows it he is sliding his tongue into her mouth, swiping the tip against hers. She practically whimpers, a pang of heat rushing between her legs as she releases his mouth with a moan, feeling the unmistakable awareness of her panty-less form beneath his sweats.

He pulls back, only slightly, their foreheads knocking as she tries to reconnect their mouths, her lips bumping his lightly but he is keeping her at bay.

She stares into his eyes as he cups her cheeks, her heart racing at what he is going to say.

She blinks a couple of times, her eyes moving in between his as he licks his rosy lips.

"I think we should," he whispers and she continues to stare at him. "Use our words."

He lets the statement fall between them but she doesn't let it linger, words have never done them any favours so she moves forward once more trying to reconnect their mouths.

"No."

"Liv," he whispers against her mouth, dodging her advance. "I want to talk about the trailer."

She blinks against his words.

"Elliot," her voice is low.

She can't do this.

She cannot picture the trailer, not when her body is currently flaming from his touch, his body - his mouth.

"Are we ever going to talk about it Olivia?" He swallows. "Because it happened.."

She closes her eyes.

"Elliot." She tries again.

"I was beyond out of line...I panicked, but that wasn't me." His thumb strokes her cheek briefly before he continues. "Tell me you understand that much."

She opens her eyes once more and stares at him.

"I do," she whispers.

"Do you?" He says with a look. "Because I'm not sure you did at the time."

She moves completely back then, his hands falling away from her cheeks, their mouths no longer inches away.

"Please can we not do this.. _here_.. now." She indicates their positioning.

"When would you like to do this then Liv?" He responds. "Because our time is kind of limited.."

She blinks at the concept of their time ending.

She doesn't know what to say to that.

She doesn't know what he wants to hear.

She wouldn't know where to begin even if she tried.

She lets out a tired breath.

"What do you want me to say?" She whispers. "You were unrecognisable in that trailer Elliot."

She knows what she's doing, she's trying to move the focus off her response and onto his actions so he closes up and drops this entirely.

He studies her carefully, a wave of trepidation flowing through his eyes before he says it.

"I know," he gives her. "But so were you.."

Her eyes widen at that, disbelief lining her features at his bluntness.

Her body aches to stand up and move away from him but she's frozen in place, she bites down into her lower lip as she tries not to lose it in front of him.

"Just talk to me," he whispers. "That's all you have to do."

That's when she feels his fingers move over the burn on her breast once more and she whacks his hand clean away without missing a beat.

"Don't." She spits and that does it, she starts to stand up then, an irrational fear flooding through her at the thought that he is going to grab her - stop her, force her into a conversation she's nowhere near ready for.

But he doesn't.

He just allows her to get up, her shaky hands moving her into a standing position before she comes to a stop a few feet away from his bed.

She just looks at him.

"I can't okay..." she fumbles. "I can't do this.. with you.. _here_... tonight."

"Okay." He whispers, seeing the look of urgency on her face.

"This is too much."

"Okay." He agrees.

"I think we both just need sleep." She whispers.

"Okay." He finishes.

And with that, she is slowly making her way to her bed, shutting the light off between them and moving under the covers.

* * *

 **TBC**


	36. Chapter 36

_AN: It's a raging Saturday night over this way. I'm going 3 for 3._

 _On a side note, this chapter is dedicated to a good friend of mine who is going through a hard time at the moment._ _I hope these updates bring a small slither of joy into your morning J. X_

* * *

Olivia rolls over onto her good side, trying to get comfortable for what feels like the fifty-fifth time.

She lets out a strained breath, her upper body tingling with cream that was intended to help her sleep but now seemed to be having the reverse effect. She turns over once more, the motel mattress not as forgiving as the plushness of Jackie's spare room and her shoulder was certainly feeling it.

 _Hot._

 _Cold._

 _Tingling._

 _Insomnia._

It's been 47 minutes.

She had counted that much on the blinking clock beside her. Forty seven minutes since Elliot had clicked off the muted TV and the room had evaporated into darkness.

He hadn't moved since.

No sounds of him shifting against the sheets.

No movement from the outside streets.

The room and motel surrounds were both deathly quiet.

She was alone with her thoughts, and her thoughts only.

She blinks against the silence, figuring he had either fallen asleep immediately or was currently staring up at the ceiling listening to her rolling around like a hotdog on a grill. Either way he wasn't making an effort to join her pity party.

She flips over once more, this time attempting to position herself on her stomach, letting out a sigh when she realises it's done nothing but antagonise the ache in her shoulder.

"Liv." He hears her name come through the darkness.

Her right ear had been pressed into the mattress so she lifts her head, not quite sure she had heard correctly.

She glances over at him, only just able to make out his face illuminated by the motel lights outside.

"Try using a pillow." He whispers to her silence.

"What?" Her voice comes out semi horse.

He rolls over onto his side to face her.

"Prop up your arm and elevate it on a pillow." He explains. "It will help."

She lays down on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Elliot, these pillows are paper thin."

He doesn't respond.

"Have you got anything stronger in that pack?" She asks him with her eyes closed. "Sleeping tablets? Codeine? Morphine maybe?" She's only half serious but a large part of her could really stand to be drugged into a coma right now if it meant she didn't have to be left alone with her thoughts for another 8 or so hours.

She hears ruffling against sheets and before she knows it his feet are hitting the floor.

She blinks up at the ceiling, figuring he is adhering to her painkiller request but gets a surprise when his frame comes into view.

She looks up at him.

"Slide over," he whispers down at her.

"Why?" She asks confused.

"Liv move over," he whispers, motioning with his head. "Trust me."

She lets out a weighted sigh, scrubbing a hand over her face, not exactly sure how he thinks the addition of his body in her bed is going to aid her ability to sleep, but with little options left she starts to move across the mattress.

She takes her pillow with her, leaving him with just a skerrick of sheet and a body length of space before she feels the mattress bow underneath his weight, her body unable to stop itself from falling into his side from gravity alone.

Her breath hitches when she comes flush up against his forearm and she watches him draw the sheet over his lower half.

He turns on his side to face her, emanating nothing but body heat.

Their eyes meet through the darkness.

They had never shared a bed together.

Not during their entire partnership.

Not in Jackie's house last night.

Not in the motel the night prior.

And they have no reason to share a bed tonight.

"Can I have a pillow?" He whispers to her face.

That's when she realizes she's hording about four of them on her side.

"Elliot," she starts. "What are you doing?"

He hadn't given her any hint of an explanation, just simply slid into bed with her like his presence was the cure for her insomnia.

All he had given her was: ' _Trust me.'_

And he'd been asking that a lot of her lately.

When he doesn't respond she turns, arching behind her until she is grasping a loan pillow and drawing it forward. He takes it from her hand and props it behind his head getting himself comfortable, that's when she feels his arm curl around her shoulders and usher her inward.

"Shuffle in," he whispers through the darkness as he gently nudges her forward.

She swallows, confusion emanating as she moves into his chest, her compliance surprising even her as she rests a hand on the wall of his chest.

He guides her hand further upward until it's resting against his breastbone, her heart hammering as his hand flattens on her back, her breasts pressing into his side.

Her mouth parts, moments from asking him what the hell he is doing when he speaks.

"The elevation will help you sleep Liv."

 _Nevermind what the rest of his body will do.._

That's the only explanation he gives for their proximity and her heart continues to hammer against his chest, unable to reconcile the fact that she is sidled up against a shirtless Elliot Stabler.

She closes her eyes, she can feel lace against his bare chest where her loose tank had slipped between their bodies. She swallows, moving her hand slightly downward to get comfortable before he stops her, grasping her wrist suddenly.

Her breath hitches.

"Not the stomach." He rasps.

She remembers then, realising she was just about to press against his wound to adjust herself.

"Sorry," she whispers through the darkness and he releases her wrist.

She waits a few beats before she moves it lower until it's resting gently on his lower abdomen.

Her fingers meet with the lip of his sweatpants as she rests her palm against his pelvis, blinking slowly against his neck.

She takes in a few shallow breaths, her mind reeling at their intimate positioning trying to figure out if she should adjust herself.

"I'm sorry you're in pain." He whispers, catching her somewhat off guard.

Her head slips upward and she watches him as he stares up at the ceiling. She takes in his apology, his tone sounding borderline accountable.

She returns her head to his chest as she slowly begins to smooth her thumb across the bottom of the bandage - the one covering the wound that she had caused and it's the first time she is truly comprehending that she did this to him.

"Elliot, I caused the accident," she reminds him in a regret filled whisper. "So this was all me.."

She feels his chest subtly rise and fall beneath her body as a plethora of imagery from that night comes to the forefront.

Just as she starts to feel unsettled his thumb swipes against her upper back, once - twice, almost as if he can sense her mind reeling.

"If you hadn't have caused that accident Liv," he whispers, a seriousness overtaking his voice. "God knows where we'd be right now."

She blinks against that thought, an unnerving silence moving between them as they both consider the alternative.

 _Olivia 6 feet under._

 _Olivia half way back to the city on foot._

 _Elliot back in the trailer.._

She presses her eyes closed not wanting to go there and soon it's all but forgotten as he starts to run his hand further up to her shoulders until his fingers are gently fanning into her hair, causing a plethora of goosebumps to break out across her flesh.

Her mouth parts, this nurturing, soothing, sensual side of Elliot throwing her completely through a loop.

This wasn't him.

This wasn't her.

This wasn't _them._

"How's the shoulder feeling?" He whispers and she blinks against his chest, trying to take stock of her arm and it's the first moment she realises she's no longer feeling discomfort.

"Better," she gives him quietly, her voice cracking slightly from her positioning.

She doesn't want to move then.

Even if it's just for now, _just for tonight._

She doesn't want to risk shifting her body an inch.

"Try and sleep," he whispers against the crown of her head, his hand running down the back of her neck, gently touching, soothing, massaging as her lips part beneath his touch and she releases a heavy breath.

She cannot believe this is where she is.

 _Here._

With him.

In the arms of a man she'd spent decades fighting.

Just for tonight, she tells herself.

 _Just for now._

She will allow herself to fall asleep in the arms of Elliot Stabler.

 **TBC**


End file.
